


Brothers and Enemies

by MiladyDragon



Series: Dragon-Verse: Series Two [22]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Buried Alive, Dragons, Kidnapping, Language, Magic, Multi, Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyDragon/pseuds/MiladyDragon
Summary: John Hart is back, and with him is Jack's long-lost brother, Gray.  But not all is what it seems...and Jack has to deal with consequences of actions that happened so long ago...and far into the future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Dragon-Verse version of "Fragments"/"Exit Wounds". I've gone with one story to cover the two episodes, since a lot of "Fragments" was flashback, and I do plan on writing those into longer stories at some point so I don't see the need to add them here.

**_14 March 2009_ **

****

It was a deserted building out in the middle of nowhere.

Two storeys…brick.  Broken windows that gave the breeze a distinctive whistling sound as it blew about the cracked sashes and shattered glass.  Scrub brush with patchy yellow grass waved in that slight wind, and the crunching of gravel under their feet was the only other noise in the vicinity.

 _“This is Patrick, you know what this is and what to do.”_ Beep.

“Patrick,” Ianto said into the phone, not wanting to sound frustrated at his teammate’s not answering.  “I’ve talked to Rhys, and he’s on his way to pick you up.  We’re reading four or five life signs.  You both need to get here ASAP; Rhys has the location.”

The dragon snapped the phone closed, irritated.  He put it away and drew his gun. 

“Are we sure it’s not Weevils?” Owen asked.  He also was armed, and he walked hunched over against the chill.

“Different energy signs,” Toshiko answered.  Her head was down, her eyes on her scanner as she walked, relying on her own natural agility to keep her from stumbling.  “I can’t make sense of it at all.  I’m thinking it’s an unknown alien species.”

It had been a quiet few weeks, and Ianto had quite gotten used to sleeping the night through with his mate by his side.  It had only been a matter of time, of course, before something had come in and had sent the team out.  It didn’t surprise him at all that the signal had led them to this Goddess-forsaken place. 

Well, except for Rhys and Patrick.  Jack had sent them home for the day a couple of hours before the Rift alert had gone off; he and his mate had also been nearly out of the Hub for a dinner date when he’d felt that tell-tale tingling of a Rift spike just before the Predictor had signalled it.  The dragon had called Rhys first, knowing that he’d have to swing back by and pick up Patrick.  Honestly, they were going to need to speak to the American about finally buying his own car, although he knew for a fact that the Cardiff constabulary were grateful that that “crazy American” hadn’t yet begun to menace the drivers of the city. 

Still, they were used to Jack’s form of driving, so they really shouldn’t complain.

But Patrick wasn’t answering his phone.  That was unusual for him, but Ianto wasn’t concerned yet, although he was a bit put out.

“Let’s hope they’re friendly,” Owen quipped.

Jack shook his head fondly.  “Ianto…Owen…take the far side of the building.  Tosh, you’re with me.”

The four members of Torchwood split up as Jack indicated.  It was unusual that his mate paired Ianto with Owen; usually he’d have been sent out with Toshiko, since they worked extremely well together. Still, it was the captain’s prerogative to change things up, and it wasn’t as if Ianto didn’t like Owen; he did, quite a lot, not that he would ever admit that to the medic simply because he didn’t want to be ridiculed any more than usual.

The dragon moved with Owen by his side, both of them armed.  If Toshiko couldn’t tell what sort of aliens were awaiting them, then it was best to be prepared.  It was always easier to apologise to a friendly alien than to die to an unfriendly one.

The interior of the building was just as ramshackle as the outside, pale late afternoon sunlight highlighting the dust dancing in spinning motes in the wind that blew through the windows and cracks, the moaning it made even more ominous as Ianto and Owen once again split up, taking refuge behind the thick concrete pillars that ran along the inside of the structure as they moved forward. 

 _“I’m getting mirror readings on both floors,”_ Toshiko’s voice murmured through the comms.

Ianto heard Jack order them to split up once more.  Owen glanced at the dragon from behind the pillar he’d put his back against, pointing in the opposite direction from where they’d been headed.

Ianto nodded in understanding.  He went the other way, gun out, covering himself as he made his quiet way through the building, looking for any sign that anything was there.

 _“You know,”_ Jack’s quiet voice came over the comms, _“these aliens are awfully quiet.”_

Jack had a point.  It was usually about this time when whatever was out there would have jumped out at least one of the team.  Something was off, but Ianto didn’t know what it was, and his dragon-enhanced senses weren’t picking up anything, except the faint brush of residual Rift energy.

 _“Maybe they’re sleeping,”_ Owen suggested.

“Or hatching,” Ianto put in.

There was a pause, and then Toshiko said in a matter-of-fact tone, _“Maybe they aren’t aliens at all.”_

Ianto almost stopped in his tracks at that point.  There was something off in Toshiko’s words, and his heart suddenly began thudding as adrenaline rushed through him.

He took a step around one of the pillars…and saw it.

It was a silver box, perhaps two-foot square.  It had been machined; the metal glittered in the dim sunlight that streamed through the broken windows. 

It was counting down.

03…

 _“Explosive devices,”_ Jack whispered.

02…

 _“Oh snap,”_ Owen added faintly.

01…

Ianto did the only thing he could do.

He transformed.

The explosion caught him in mid-transformation.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

****

Patrick was furious with himself, even though missing the call-out wasn’t really his fault.

He’d been in the shower when his phone had rung, and he simply hadn’t heard it.  It was only Rhys pounding on his door that had alerted him that he’d missed the phone call from Ianto.

He was just glad to have gotten dressed after his shower, but then he’d been planning on meeting Eion at the local pub for a couple of pints.  So much for that, and the text he’d gotten from Eion after he’d cancelled had been breezy and understanding.

“It’s fine, mate,” Rhys tried to soothe him as he swerved his car in and out of traffic.  It was Saturday, so there weren’t as many vehicles out on the road as there might have been if it had been rush hour, but they were still breaking several traffic laws that Patrick was aware of.

“It’s not like you miss call-outs,” the Welshman went on.

“Well, it depends on who’s driving,” Patrick teased. 

“Yeah, if it was Jack behind the wheel, we’d have gotten there before the bloody alert had even come in!”

Patrick couldn’t help but laugh, because yeah…their boss’s driving was almost like flying on four wheels.  He’d once asked Ianto just how many tickets he’d had to have fixed over the years the pair had been running Torchwood, and Ianto had simply asked him if he was planning on going for the record in that delightfully deadpan way he had that reminded Patrick of his Uncle Phil.

They were heading out of town from what Patrick could tell.  He wondered just what sort of signal had brought the team out that far, because this area reminded the American of the saying Clint had once used: “Bum-Fuck Egypt”.  It seemed apt; the houses had given away to near-countryside, except for a couple of abandoned buildings that nature was doing her damnedest to reclaim.  The road was rough under the car’s tires, making Patrick glad he was wearing his seat belt.

“It should be close,” Rhys said, leaning a bit forward over the steering wheel as if that would make their destination easier to locate.  Not that it was all that difficult; the building was the only thing around, and from the looks of its condition Patrick could tell something had happened to it recently.

“Are you sure these are the right coordinates?” he asked doubtfully.  There was no sign of the SUV, and the building seemed about ready to collapse.  Certainly, the rest of the team wouldn’t be there?

“Yeah, this is what Ianto sent me.”  Rhys sounded equally frustrated as he pulled the car round to the side of the two-storey structure.  It was brick and mortar, and there was a tendril of what resembled dust drifting from one of the upstairs windows.  “They couldn’t be having a go at us, could they?”

Patrick could understand why Rhys would think that; there was simply no sign that any of the team had been out there at all. 

But there was something wrong, and not having to do with their missing friends.  Something was gnawing at Patrick’s instincts, trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t say what it was.  The moment the car was parked, he was out of the passenger side door, looking up at the damaged structure, reading the patterns of the destruction and realising just how fresh it was.

Whatever had caused the damage, it had just occurred.

Without even thinking about it, Patrick had drawn his weapon and started toward a doorway that was cluttered with fresh debris, the weight of the Glock familiar and comforting as his eyes traced the crumbling brick that had come down to block the opening.  He could hear Rhys’ shoes crunching against the gravel as his friend moved behind him, watching his back as Patrick began his exploration.

No, Ianto hadn’t been playing some sort of joke, of that Patrick was certain.  He was also sure that the team _had_ been there, but something had happened.  Now, whether they’d been there for this attempt at demolishing the building, Patrick didn’t know.

He carefully made his way inside, leading with his gun.  The interior of the structure had been blown to hell, what had once been large concrete pillars looking like broken teeth, the parts of them still standing barely supporting the cracked floor above.  Dust tickled his nose and throat and Patrick stifled the cough that rose up in his chest.  Rhys wasn’t able to do the same; his friend cleared his throat as quietly as he could, but it was still loud in the stillness.

Suddenly, debris deeper inside the wrecked building shifted, and a flash of green scales in the gloom had Patrick stumbling over broken brick and stone, his gun going back into its holster the better to use his hands to keep his balance among the shattered pieces of the structure.

As far as he could see, the dragon looked uninjured.  The large head shook as if Ianto was trying to clear it, eyes flashing in anger as he took in his surroundings.  Those eyes locked onto Patrick’s as he and Rhys approached. 

“Sorry we’re late, Boss,” Patrick apologised as they made it to Ianto’s side.  Dust covered the usually bright scales, falling away as the dragon mantled his wings and shook himself like a reptilian dog.

Yes, he knew better than to call Ianto a _reptile_ , but it was what that action looked like to him.

“Don’t be,” the dragon snarled angrily.  “You both would have been caught in this like the rest of us were.”

“The rest of the team?” Patrick didn’t want to think of the others under all this rubble.

“Everyone but Deborah,” Ianto confirmed.  “She was still at the Hub when we left.”

“Shit.”  This was bad.  “Explosives?”

“Exactly.”

“Bloody hell,” Rhys exclaimed. 

_That_ was an understatement.

“We need to find them.”  Golden light surrounded the dragon, and in seconds Ianto stood there, his face angry and bleak at the same time.  “We’ll split up; Rhys, head toward the other side of the building.  Patrick, go with him.  Jack and Toshiko were down that side.  I’ll look for Owen.  Give a shout if you find them.”

The pair did as the dragon ordered, even though Patrick was surprised that Ianto hadn’t wanted to search for his mate himself, knowing that he had this weird sense of Jack’s immortality that would allow him to find the captain no matter where he was.  But Patrick knew that Jack would be fine; it was obvious they’d have to dig him out, but he’d resurrect if he’d been killed in the blast.  Toshiko, though…he was terrified for her life.  Patrick didn’t want to even consider that Tosh might be crushed somewhere under all this, or blown apart by whatever explosive had been used.  No matter what, it would be up to him to determine what sort of devices were used to cause this much destruction.  And Patrick would do it, too, in order to find out just who’d decided it was a good idea to blow up Torchwood.

“Over there!” Rhys called out, darting to the left.

Patrick went with him, seeing the familiar blue of Jack’s greatcoat amid the rubble.  Rhys got there first, and was lifting a rather large chunk of ceiling off their leader; Patrick got on the opposite side and helped heave the block away, revealing the obviously dead body underneath.

It was as if removing that kicked in Jack’s resurrection; he gasped sharply, a hand reaching out blindly toward Rhys, who took it without thought.  Jack’s frightened eyes first fastened on the Welshman, and then found Patrick’s, and the American nodded once to reassure him.

“Where’s everyone else?” Jack demanded as he began shoving away the broken stones that had buried him. 

“Ianto’s down at the other end, looking for Owen,” Patrick said, helping his boss clear the debris away.  “We haven’t found Toshiko yet.”

Once enough of the wreckage was away, Jack stood, Rhys helping pull the captain to his feet.  He caught hold of Patrick’s jacket sleeve to keep him close.  “We need to find her.”

Rhys touched the comm in his ear, and reported to Ianto that they’d found Jack, and were now hunting for Toshiko.  Together they followed Jack toward the corner, where the immortal claimed Toshiko had been when the bombs had gone off.

Patrick couldn’t help but notice it had been _bombs_ , plural.

Jack called out to the technical genius as he clambered over fallen girders and toppled columns.  At first Patrick didn’t hear a thing, but then a small sound came to his ears; a faint whimper that had his heart beating frantically in his chest as the three of them scrambled toward that pained noise, knowing that it had to be Toshiko somewhere amid all this destruction.

The Japanese woman was trapped under a concrete column that had managed almost cover her completely.  Only her dirt-streaked face as visible underneath it, and she looked as if she was slowly being crushed under its tremendous weight.

Jack dropped beside her as Toshiko began screaming.

“It’s okay!” he shouted, his hand reaching underneath the column to stroke her cheek.  “We’re gonna get you out!”

“It’s shifting!” she cried.  “It’s going to crush me!”  The fear and panic in her voice broke Patrick’s heart.

“We’re not going to be able to get this off ourselves,” Rhys explained.  “We need dragon strength.”

“Go and get him,” Jack ordered.  “My comms’ gone; did he find Owen?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” the Welshman answered.  He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder.  “I’ll find him.”

Then he was off, leaving Patrick and Jack to try to keep Toshiko calm.  “Are you hurt anywhere that you can tell?” he asked.

“I think my arm is broken,” she gasped. A single tear tracked down her face, washing away the concrete dust that covered her pale skin.

“Owen’ll be able to patch that up in no time,” Patrick assured her.

“Ianto can get this off you,” Jack added. 

“If he gets here in time…” there was a finality in Toshiko’s voice, one that Patrick didn’t care to hear.

“Of course he will,” Jack teased.  “You think I’m gonna explain this to Kathy?  She’ll have my balls.”

That caused Toshiko to choke out a laugh, one that was filled with pain and a slight edge of hysteria.  “I do love that woman.”

_“I’ve found Ianto,”_ Rhys said over the comms.  _“I’m sending him over.  Patrick, can you come and help me with Owen?”_

Patrick reported what Rhys had said.  “I’m going to help with Owen.”

Jack nodded.  “We’ll meet back outside once you and Rhys have him.”

Patrick really hated leaving Toshiko like that, but there really wasn’t anything he could do.  It would be up to Ianto to get that column off her.

And so, he turned away and began to make his way through the rubble strewn floor of the building.  About a third of the way along Ianto passed him, nodding to Patrick as he went by.  In that simple head move was a wealth of conversation; he was trusting Patrick to help Rhys and Owen, and was leaving their welfare in Patrick’s hands.

Patrick knew he’d never really feel worthy of that trust.

He managed to locate Rhys and Owen, and he stifled a shiver at what he saw.  Their medic was half-buried under small chunks of stone, arms splayed out against the smashed bricks.  He wasn’t moving; he was barely breathing, in fact, and Rhys was standing just off to the side, talking to him in a calm tone that was a fairly bad cover for the concern.

A large pane of broken glass still in its frame was angled downward from the wall; as Patrick got closer, the jagged glass shifted, sliding a good two feet toward the trapped Owen, stopping just short of falling all the way and impaling his friend.

“Shit,” Owen gasped.

Patrick silently agreed.

“We’re gonna need to yank him out of there,” Rhys told him.  “If we do it together…”

“We can get him out of there fast enough to avoid the glass,” Patrick finished.

“Bloody do something,” Owen murmured.  “I don’t reckon being a kebab is on my ‘to-do’ list today.”

Patrick could see it immediately.  All the angles and trajectories and just how precariously that missile was balanced on the shattered remains of the wall.  One wrong move and Owen would be dead.

The medic’s hand was just within reach, if Patrick could crawl just a bit closer without dislodging that dangerous, jagged pane that was threatening to fall with just the slightest movement.

There was no way Patrick was going to let that stop him.

“I’m gonna get across and grab Owen,” he said.  “Rhys, pull us back the moment I say, okay?”

The Welshman was a bit paler than usual, but he nodded once, sharply. “I’ve got you.”

Patrick smiled at him, letting his trust in his friend show in that expression.  “The next round’s on me when we get the hell out of here.”

Rhys rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, you cheap-arse.  It better be.”

Owen snorted, and Patrick just shook his head.  He really wasn’t that stingy, but Rhys’ indignation broke the heavy pall of dread that had settled over the three of them. 

Patrick moved slowly, knee settled onto the small pile of rubble just beside Owen’s outstretched hand.  He leaned forward, grasping it firmly.  “I’ve got you,” he assured the trapped man. 

“And I’ve got you,” Rhys said.  Patrick felt an arm snug around his waist, and he relaxed into that grip.

“On my mark.”  Owen’s hand was slightly shaking, the palm damp.  Patrick wrapped his fingers more tightly around the medic’s, making certain he wouldn’t lose his grip.  “One…” He took a deep breath, trying to ignore that creaking mass of glass over their heads.  “Two…”  If this didn’t work…no, he couldn’t think that. 

“Three.”

With every bit of strength he had, Patrick pulled.


	3. Chapter 3

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

 

Owen came free of the pile he’d been buried in, dragged toward Patrick as Rhys put his own back into tugging them along.  With a hideous screech, the glass came loose from its tenuous perch and slid down and toward right where Owen had been trapped.

Patrick felt a piece of glass slice his cheek as it broke just inches from their sprawled bodies.

Owen was practically laying on top of Patrick, breathing harsh in the sudden return of silence.  Patrick had his arm around the medic, and was himself sprawled against Rhys, so that the Welshman was at the bottom of their pile.  They lay there for a few seconds, and then Rhys began pushing at Patrick.  “Off!  You’re both crushing me!”

Owen scrambled off, followed by Patrick.  As they three of them sat amid the destruction, they began to laugh. 

It was a relieved, slightly hysterical sound, and didn’t last very long.  The first one to their feet was Rhys, who held out hands to Patrick and Owen, who both accepted the help.

“How’s everyone else?” the medic demanded. 

“Jack and Ianto are getting Tosh out,” Patrick answered.  “She was trapped under a column, but that’s why we have a dragon on the team, right?”

“Yeah, Dragon Boy is good with the heavy lifting.” The return of Owen’s habitual sarcasm was a welcome one.

“They’re gonna meet us outside,” the American added.  “Tosh thought her arm was broken.  Jack died.”

Owen’s face went expressionless.  None of their team liked it when Jack did that, because they all knew what it meant for him to come back. “Let’s get back to the SUV, and I can patch Tosh up and we can get back to the Hub.  I wanna know who planned this and kick their arses.”

“The SUV is missing,” Rhys reported as they made their way outside.  It was getting dark; the sun was beginning to set, shadows lengthening across the scrub land around them and made Rhys’ blue car look black. 

“Where’s the SUV?” Jack demanded.

Patrick turned; Jack, Ianto, and Toshiko were both leaving the building, all three covered in dust; Toshiko’s arm was in a makeshift sling that looked to have once been the inner lining of Ianto’s jacket. 

Owen went to her immediately. “Rhys, you got a kit in your boot?”

“Course I do.”  The Welshman was obviously insulted.  He popped the trunk, revealing a large first aid kit as well as other smaller pieces of tech.

“We don’t know where the SUV is,” Patrick answered as the medic proceeded to splint up Toshiko’s arm, handing her some pills and a water bottle; he knew that those would have been the good drugs, judging from the small wince the technician gave as Owen put the broken limb in a decent sling.

A loud beep sounded out over the quiet.

Jack glanced down at his wrist strap.  Flipping it open, he pressed a button…

And a man appeared, flickering blue in the dim light.

A very loud growl came from Ianto, and Patrick hadn’t ever heard his boss make that sort of noise before.  “I swore I would kill him…”

It wasn’t anyone that Patrick recognised.  The man was a little shorter than Jack, although that might have been the nature of the video than anything else.  He had light hair and sharp eyes, and was wearing some sort of historical-looking coat that didn’t pair well with the twin guns holstered on his hips

Even though the man wasn’t exactly present, Patrick could tell immediately that he wasn’t to be trusted.  And that had nothing to do with the fact that the normally placid Ianto Jones had once promised to commit homicide on the stranger’s person.

To rile the dragon up like that, it had to have something to do with Jack.

_“Oh, déjà vu!”_ the man said almost chirpily.  _“Or did I say that already? Hey, team. Course, there might be a few less of you by now. Don't know if you liked my little gift.”_ His eyes went to where Jack was standing. _“Course,_ you _can't die. And with all that life, all that time, you can't spare any for me.”_

Ianto growled again, and his fists were clenching spasmodically.  Since Patrick didn’t have all the facts and had to guess just from whatever the hell this person was had said, he felt he had a claim on Jack in some way that had to have been pissing off the dragon something fierce.

_“Oh!”_ the man went on. _“Say hi to the family.”_

Another beam of light appeared, this one from the man in the image’s own wrist strap, illuminating a young man that looked to have been in some sort of handcuffs.  His hair was buzzed close to his scalp, and the clothes he was wearing had obviously seen better days.  If Patrick wasn’t mistaken, there was also some sort of scar on his neck.

It was Jack’s reaction that truly had Patrick’s attention.  His bosses’ face had gone ghastly pale, and the hologram began trembling in response to the shaking his hands were doing.  “It’s not possible,” Jack gasped, pain in every single word of that short sentence.

There was a slight resemblance to Jack in the younger man, and with the comment about family Patrick guessed that this was Jack’s long-lost brother, Gray.

Jack had told them all about Gray.  How the loss of his only brother had been the catalyst of Jack’s joining the Time Agency, and yet he’d found no trace of Gray anywhere.  He’d finally accepted that he was dead and gone, killed by the alien race that had taken him so long ago and yet so far into the future.

The man confirmed Patrick’s supposition with his next words.  _“Been a while since you've seen your brother, Jack?”_

“Gray?” The agony in that name was palpable, and Patrick would have stepped forward to comfort his boss if Ianto hadn’t beaten him to it.

Whoever this bastard was, he could see just why the dragon wanted to kill him.  He wondered if there’d been some sort of vow of vengeance or something.

_“OK,”_ the man continued, _“here's what's going to happen. Everything you love, everything you treasure, will die. I'm going to tear your world apart, Captain Jack Harkness, piece by piece. Starting now. Maybe now you'll wanna spend some time with me.”_

With that final oath, Jack’s brother vanished, followed almost immediately by the insane as fuck person threatening Jack.  Did the man have some sort of death wish?  Didn’t he realise that Jack had a mate and that that mate would do anything to protect the man he loved?  Was he just that stupid, or did he really not care?

“Who the hell was that?” Rhys demanded.

“That,” Ianto snarled, “was a dead man walking.”  He was supporting Jack, his hand under their bosses’ elbow, as if afraid he was going to collapse.  And maybe he was, just from the expression of shock and terror – with an odd glimpse of hope almost hidden behind it all – on his face. 

“His name’s John Hart,” Owen explained as he finished up with Toshiko’s injury.  “He’s an ex of Jack’s.  Fucker’s crazier than a bag of cats, as you can tell.”

“He was my partner at the Time Agency,” Jack picked up the explanation.  The captain was completely wrecked, as if his entire world had just crashed in around him. 

It had, Patrick knew. 

“He tried to kill us all,” Toshiko added.  She reached into the trunk of Rhys’ car, and pulled out one of Torchwood’s PDA’s.  She managed to work it one-handed.  “John must have taken the SUV.”  

Ianto had managed to make one appear as well, and was checking it even as he helped support Jack.  “Looks like he’s driven it back to the Hub.”

The one Toshiko held began beeping at her.  “I'm getting readings of Rift activity all over the city,” she cried. “Major Rift flares at St Helen's Hospital, the Police Headquarters and the Central IT Server Station…”

“Yeah, I can feel them,” the dragon confirmed. 

What the hell was happening?

A phone rang from somewhere in the group.  Ianto handed his PDA to Rhys, and then fished his out of his pocket.  He checked the caller ID, his face grim. “Yeah, Andy?”

Patrick tensed.  Toshiko had just said there’d been Rift activity at Cardiff CID, and that just couldn’t be good at all.

Ianto’s expression turned darker as Andy talked to him.  Patrick wished he could hear what the detective constable was saying.  “Is Kathy alright?  And what about you?” he asked after a long pause.

Toshiko had looked away from her readings, hanging on every word Ianto was saying.  She visibly relaxed when Ianto nodded, smiling slightly.  “Is she on her way back?...Okay, can you handle things there until Kathy arrives?...alright, yeah…hell is breaking loose at other places as well, so if you can deal with things there…keep us informed, alright?...Thanks, Andy.”

He closed his phone.  “Apparently, several Weevils just appeared at the Cardiff CID and killed the four ranking officers on site.”  There was something in his voice that made Patrick shiver.  “Kathy’s fine; she’d actually been on her way home when shit went down.  Andy called her back in and then called us to let us know.”

“They’re fine handling things there?” Jack asked.  He was visibly pulling himself back together, hiding his shock and dismay behind his Captain’s mask. 

“Yeah, Andy wrangled several of the coppers that weren’t too traumatised and managed to get the Weevils into a cell.  They’ll hold them there until we can collect them.”

“Alright.”  Jack straightened his shoulders, pulling away from Ianto slightly.  “Ianto, I want you to fly Tosh to the Central Server building.  We’re all not going to fit into Rhys’ car, and we can’t afford to have the Central Servers go down.  There’s no telling what got deposited there.”

“Jack…” Ianto growled.

Jack continued on as if the dragon hadn’t spoken.  “Owen, I want you, Rhys, and Patrick to get to the hospital, find out what’s going on there – “

“And what about you?” Patrick challenged, although he’d pretty much guessed what he was going to say.  If this Hart bastard was after Jack, then he’d be wanting to face the man alone.

“I’m going to Torchwood.”

That was exactly what Patrick had expected him to say.  “I’m going with you.”

Jack shook his head.  “Patrick, you don’t know John like I do – “

“I’m sure that’s true, but here’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk into the Hub without back-up.  Besides, we have no idea what’s happened to Deborah, if this Hart jerk really is in the Hub.”

“I’m just going to confront him – “

“He wants you, Jack.  What makes you think you can reason with him?  He just tried to kill two thirds of the team!”

“I was the only one who could ever control him. That's why the Time Agency partnered us.”

“That might have been then,” Toshiko butted in, “but you know he’s dangerously unstable.  You can’t face him on your own, even though you’d come back to life if he kills you.  He even knows you’re immortal.  There’s no telling what he has in mind.”

“I am not letting you go there alone,” Ianto spoke up.  “If you won’t let Patrick go, then I’m going with you.”

Jack was shaking his head.  “Toshiko’s going to need you to get her to the Central Server in case something goes wrong there, and you’re somewhat familiar with the systems there as well.  Maybe not as good as she is, but she’s going to need all the back-up she can get with being down an arm if anything happens out there.”

“And I’d be completely useless at the hospital,” Patrick pointed out.  “I can have your back, Jack.”

He really hoped Jack would listen to them all.  Sure, he really didn’t have any idea just what this John Hart could do, but there was no way he was going to let his friend and boss handle a potentially psychotic ex all by himself.

Jack was looking at each and every one of them, as if he’d somehow gained telepathy and was trying to read their minds.  Patrick knew that wasn’t possible but he let his determination show. 

They were a team, and they looked after each other.

Finally, Jack’s shoulders slumped.  “Alright.  Rhys, you’ll drop me and Patrick off at the Hub.  We need to know what John is up to, and what he might have done with Deborah.”

Patrick kept himself from performing the fist pump he really wanted to, but it was a close thing.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_The Torchwood Hub, Cardiff_ **

 

Jack was glad that Patrick had insisted on going with him.

Rhys had dropped them both off at the Plass, and then he and Owen headed to St Helen’s.  It was now fully dark, and as the pair of them crossed the Plass heading toward the Tourist Centre, Jack considered his options.

The thing was, he was having a really hard time concentrating.

John had Gray.

That had been his ex-partner’s final words to him as they’d sent him on his way several months ago.  Jack hadn’t really considered the fact that he’d been serious; after all, John Hart was a liar, a thief, and a murderer.  Owen had been correct in saying that John was crazy, and there really was no telling just what a crazy man would do.

He’d explained to Rhys and Patrick on their way here, with their medic adding his own commentary to Jack’s story.  He’d honestly thought they’d gotten rid of him for good, that their promises and Ianto’s very presence in Cardiff would have been enough to keep John away and out of their hair forever.  He’d seemed very much wary of the dragon.

But there he was, back in their life and this time he had Jack’s brother with him…the brother he’d thought he’d never see again.  He’d done everything he could think of to find Gray, but none of it had worked.  By the time he’d become disillusioned with the Time Agency and their erasing of two years of his life from his mind, Jack had had to admit to himself that his brother was gone.

He still remembered his mother’s recriminations after his father had been killed and Gray had been taken.  She’d blamed him for Gray’s disappearance, and Jack could completely understand.  Their father had given Jack that one single duty…take care of his little brother.  Jack had failed so utterly, and he’d kept right on failing even after he’d had the resources of the Time Agency at his disposal.

Jack had mentioned it to the Doctor once.  It had been his own Doctor, the one he’d travelled with; the one in the leather jacket and with the large ears.  The Doctor had told him they couldn’t go back and change things even when Jack had begged; but then, Jack had known all along that if he’d changed his past and had saved Gray, none of what had caused him to be the person he was would have been gone.  It would have created such a paradox there would have been no way to fix it. He’d learned that lesson in the Time Agency himself, and to be honest that hadn’t been what he’d been asking.  The Doctor had misunderstood his plea…whether it was wilfully Jack would never know. 

Somehow though John had located Gray when Jack had completely failed.  It was one more black mark against him.  He hadn’t even been able to find Gray, while his homicidal ex-partner had.

He needed so badly to get his brother out of John’s hands.  He had to succeed in this one thing or else he didn’t know what it would do to him.

Patrick seemed to understand Jack’s need to get his mind wrapped around what was happening.  He walked beside Jack, keeping his silence as they took the steps down to the Quay.  He was grateful for that, and for his friend and teammate’s being there and not letting him face John on his own.  Jack really didn’t want to at all; he really wished that John had stayed gone. 

But he was back, and he was threatening his team and his family.  Jack was just ecstatic that he didn’t seem to know about Alice and Steven.  There really would have been no going back if John had somehow found out about them.

“Alright.”  He stopped just outside the Tourist Office, Patrick beside him.  “Your priority is going to be finding Deborah.  There’s no telling what John might have done to her, and I want her safe and out of the Hub as soon as possible.”

Patrick looked as if he wanted to argue, but he simply nodded at the order. 

“I’m going straight in through the cog door.  If I know John at all, he’s going to take the high ground, which means he’ll be up on one of the gantries around the main area.  I’d say for you to come around and through the garage, but I don’t trust him not to have booby trapped it in some way.”

“Understood, Boss.”

“Now, he’s going to expect me to come alone, or at least bring Ianto with me.”  Jack did; he wished Ianto was with him.  Nothing against Patrick, in fact he was glad the American was with him.  But his mate had been needed to get Toshiko to the Central Server Station.  Toshiko _needed_ Ianto; Jack simply _wanted_ him. 

“And of course he probably doesn’t even know I exist,” Patrick mused.

“I would say no.”  Of course, there was no telling what sort of information John had managed to gather on the newest team members, but Jack was betting he hadn’t done much research at all. Now, he could see him researching the Hub, to make sure he had the best chance of setting his trap.

John had always been a bit of a lazy bastard when it came to certain things.

“Let’s go and take care of things.” Patrick had his gun out and ready. 

“How many weapons are you carrying at the moment?”

The smirk that graced Patrick’s features looked downright dangerous.  “Enough.”

Really, Jack should have known better than to ask.

He used his wrist strap to unlock the door to the Tourist Office.  Inside, it looked as if a whirlwind had hit the place.  Brochures were scattered everywhere, and one of the metal racks with postcards had been knocked over.  A couple of textbooks had been tumbled to the floor, telling the story that Deborah had been studying when Hart had entered.  It looked as if she put up a hell of a fight.

But her stun gun was just visible under the reception desk, showing that John had gotten her by surprise.

Jack prayed that she was alright.

Patrick reached under and pushed the button to the Hub.  Behind them the Tourist Office door snicked locked, and the door in the wall opened almost silently.  Jack stepped into the corridor first, Patrick at his back.  Everything looked fine, but that was no guarantee although Jack was positive John would be down in the Hub proper.

The lift down to the Hub was also made in silence.  They really didn’t need to speak.  Jack trusted Patrick to do what needed to be done while Jack himself faced John. 

It didn’t mean that Jack wasn’t feeling the nerves and adrenaline that came into stepping into what had to have been a trap. 

He opened the cog door, the alarm almost being drowned out by loud, thumping music coming from somewhere in the Hub.  Jack stepped out past the cage, knowing that Patrick was with him and would be taking advantage of the distraction brought on by the song that seemed to fill every part of the Hub.

Jack wondered just how Myfanwy was putting up with it, but then he’d made sure she’d been locked inside her nest before they’d left on that Rift alert that had been a plot to kill them.

“Come on!”

Jack had been correct.  John was up on the upper gantry that ran around the Hub.  He was dancing along to the music, waving some sort of scarf about his head…Jack recognised it as having belonged to Deborah, and he was afraid she’d been hurt when John had invaded.  He didn’t see her in the main Hub, so John could have stashed her anywhere.

“Sing along!” John went on, and if Jack wasn’t mistaken there was a tone of anxiousness about it.  “It’s our song!”

“We don't have a song,” Jack denied. “And if we did have a song, it wouldn't be _this_ song.”  It really wasn’t his taste at all.

John dropped the scarf, the pout almost managing to look pitiful.  “You're no fun!”  He let the scarf flutter to the floor, then flipped open his wrist strap and punched a button.

The Hub became mercifully silent.

“Thank you.”

“I've been here quite a while.”  John started across the gantry and down the stairs. “What kept you?”

“We all survived.” Jack began walking toward John, wanting to keep his ex-partner’s attention on him and not on Patrick as his teammate peeled off to search for Deborah.  “You know, if you're gonna set an explosion, you need to be more efficient.”

John shrugged nonchalantly, but there was something off about the movement, and it set Jack’s instincts jangling in alarm.  “Oh, them.”  He waved the very idea of his bombs off, as if they didn’t matter to him at all.  “They were just prototypes, had to test out a theory. How are they all? Oh, I noticed you finally got a blonde on the team.  Cute little thing!”

Jack ground his teeth in rage.  John had done something to Deborah, and he needed Patrick to find her and get her the hell away from this maniac.  “What do you want?” he growled.  He stepped a little closer, afraid to get too close because he really wanted to beat the shit out of Hart in that moment.

John’s face lost all touch of humour.  “I want you to know that I love you.”  He said it completely seriously, and Jack knew he was speaking the truth…as much as John knew the truth, or was capable of loving anyone.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Jack answered sarcastically. 

It was bad that John was already pushing each and every one of Jack’s buttons.  This asshole had tried to blow his people up, and somewhere in the Hub he was holding another one prisoner.  He needed to play it cool, but it just wasn’t in him to do it anymore.  He wanted John gone, and at that point he didn’t care how it happened.

“No, seriously…you have to understand.”  John turned his back, and Jack watched him warily.  He was definitely up to something.  “I really do love you.” 

Suddenly he swung back around.  In his hands were a pair of machine pistols. 

Jack had, of course, been expecting something.  But for some reason this surprised him, and he froze for a second.

That gave John his opportunity.

The first shot though wasn’t at Jack.

They were at Patrick, who’d managed to come around Toshiko’s work station, putting him in a perfect position to fire if he needed to.

Patrick didn’t stand a chance.

Jack screamed as one of the guns spat loudly.  He couldn’t help but watch as the bullet hit Patrick high in the chest.

The immortal didn’t see Patrick fall.

Instead, he went for his Webley, determined to take John down once and for all.

The problem was he was completely unable to outdraw a pair of weapons that could outfire him so easily.

Bullets riddled his body.  All Jack could do was shudder under the onslaught, as if the hail of metal slugs was keeping him on his feet.

Pain exploded across his chest and abdomen, agony like nothing he’d felt in a long time slamming into him.  He was falling as the gunfire ceased, and he just before he died he heard John say,

“Because this…this is gonna get really ugly.”


	5. Chapter 5

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_Central Server Station, Cardiff_ **

 

Ianto was able to land in the empty car park of the Central Server Station.  Toshiko clambered down from his back somewhat gingerly, only having one good arm to balance herself with, and the dragon waited patiently while she dismounted. 

As soon as she was down and steady, Ianto triggered his transformation, and he stuck his comm back in his ear as the pair made their way into the building, Toshiko having to user her PDA in order to bypass the electronics on the door. 

The server area was in the back of the building.  Most of the lights had been turned off for the night, but several of the fluorescents flickered as they made their way down the stacks.  The uptick in Rift activity was making itself known to Ianto’s senses, prickling against his scales and making him feel jumpy.

“This building houses servers for the military, police, NHS, even looks after the server systems for the nuclear station at Turnmill,” Toshiko murmured as headed quietly deeper into the building.

“What did they report?” Ianto asked, not having had a chance before.  He hadn’t wanted to distract Toshiko from holding on with only one hand she had available.  He hadn’t wanted to risk her falling by having her need to use her device to pull up the information he was enquiring about.

“Ghosts in these server stacks.”

Well that certain explained why the building was deserted.

“How’s your arm?”

Toshiko shrugged her good shoulder.  “Those industrial strength painkillers Owen loves giving out work like a charm.  I can wait to get it properly looked at until all this is over.”

Ianto couldn’t help but worry, but then this was why the team liked to tease him about being their ‘mother’.

They cleared another row of stacks.

An unearthly moan sounded from down the next stack.

“Ianto…”

The dragon turned.  Down the hallway stood three black-clad beings, each holding a deadly-looking scythe.  They looked the very embodiment of Death, and the Rift clung to them as darkly as their robes as they noticed the Torchwood pair standing at the end of the row. 

“Devils,” a sepulchral voice echoed through the deserted server room. “Blasphemers…pray to your heathen God. While in the Lord's name, we cast you out…”

They began striding toward Ianto and Toshiko, their robes billowing despite the still air in the room.  Scythes came up, and Ianto had to wonder if they’d be able to cut him or if this was just one more weapon that wouldn’t do all that much damage.

He couldn’t take the risk.

Toshiko must have been on the same wavelength; she pulled her gun at the same time he did.  They didn’t have time to figure out the situation, and personally Ianto had been on the receiving end of far too many religious zealots to know that they’d never listen to a thing either of them said. 

The echoes of gunshots were loud in the enclosed space.

All three of the black-clad beings went to the floor.

“There we are then,” Ianto commented, putting his gun back in its holster.

“Sorted,” Toshiko added with a single nod of her head.  She juggled her gun away, and then retrieved the PDA from her pocket.  She returned to her scanning.  “I’m not getting anything else.”

I’m not either,” Ianto confirmed.  His senses weren’t tingling quite as badly with the trio of aliens dead. 

“I can’t believe this is the only thing John’s got planned.”

The dragon agreed.  Hart was up to more than bringing strangers through the Rift.  “Let’s check the building in case there’s any sort of booby trap or sabotage that’s not obvious.”  He really wanted to go to Jack, to watch his back, but he trusted Patrick to do whatever he needed to.

Toshiko nodded in agreement then took off down the stacks, stepping carefully over the bodies without paying too much attention to them.  Ianto made a mental note to arrange clean-up as soon as Hart was taken care of.

His comm crackled to life.

_“Attention... Torchwood employees!”_ the unmistakable voice of John Hart sounded in his ear.  _“Evening all! Now, stop what you're doing…”_

 

********** 

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_St Helen’s Hospital, Cardiff_ **

****

The doctor – _Conolly_ written on her badge – looked pretty calm for having something lurking in the basement.

Owen was impressed.

She was leading the medic and Rhys down to the lower level of the hospital, saying as she walked, “Was coming back from a break, saw the door open and there it was. Chewing through the cables. So I locked it in.”

Smart lady, he couldn’t help but think.

The door going into what looked to be a boiler room of some sort was shut, and it looked old enough to have been part of the hospital for decades.  It was large, metal, and Owen could have sworn it was slightly wet with condensation…but it was dry to the touch.

From within the room beyond was a metallic rattling.  Owen glanced over at Rhys, who was holding a rucksack with some of the kit the Welshman had in the boot of his car.  Owen swore the man was almost as anal as Dragon Boy in wanting to be prepared for anything.

But then, he’d also had that well-stocked first aid kit, so he really couldn’t complain a lot.  He’d been able to make sure that Toshiko was well doped up on the good drugs before Ianto had flown them both to the Central Server building. 

Rhys glanced through the narrow window in the door, then reared back a little in surprise.

“What the hell is it?” Conolly demanded, and it sounded as if she was used to getting answers.  Meant she was probably one of the doctors in charge, with that tone.

“Short answer?” Owen snarked.  “It’s an alien.”

Conolly looked at him like he was insane, and then breathed out.  “Bloody Torchwood.  Of course, it’s an alien.”

Really, if Jack seriously thought they were that big a secret anymore, Owen was going to have to check his boss’ mental health.

“A Hoix, to be specific,” Rhys added.  He pulled the rucksack off his shoulder and began rooting around inside.

“Lovely.”  Owen hated Hoix with a passion. “They only live to eat, doesn’t matter what. Caught one in Barry last year in a kebab shop, it went through seven doner sticks in 20 minutes.”  After all, the woman already knew about Torchwood.  She probably could do with a bit of an explanation.  Maybe he could convince Jack to hire her or something, what with her steadiness and grasp of the ridiculous.  “Now, have you got the keys?”

Rhys passed over an enormous syringe of the good stuff as Conolly passed over a keyring with an honest-to-God little green man bobble on it.  Owen really should have known.  What a bloody crime that was. 

“What’s that?” Conolly asked, nodding at the syringe.

“All species sedative.”  Owen hefted it in his dominant hand, knowing he’d want to be quick about poking the Hoix with it.  The last thing they needed was a Hoix on the loose, gobbling up anything and everything it could get its teeth on.   “Rhys, you got anything in your bag of tricks I can distract it with?”

Rhys held up a protein bar.

“Remind me to kiss you once we’re done.”  He really _was_ prepared for almost anything.  Owen was going to pick Rhys for his team every fucking time.

“Don’t make me sic Diane on you, mate.”

Owen smirked at that.  It was so much fun riling people up.

He used the key and pulled the stiff metal door open just enough for he and Rhys to step inside.  He could hear rustling deep inside the room, around where several pipes ran from the ceiling to the floor.  Something clanged, and a harsh growling sounded.

The Hoix was just visible on the other side of the pipes.  It was a butt-ugly thing, all teeth, and it was currently chowing down on some cabling that probably shouldn’t have been chewed on.  Owen hoped it hadn’t done too much damage.

“Hoixie,” Owen called in a sing-song voice, “where are you?”

“Hoixie?” Rhys grumbled.  “Really?”

“You got something better to call it, you’re welcome to take point.”

Their voices were enough to grab the Hoix’s attention. It turned its massive head in their direction, baring its teeth at them as it took a lumbering step forward. 

Rhys tossed the protein bar, and it skittered across the concrete, the sudden movement drawing its eyes to the treat.  It bounded toward them, scooping up the bar even as Owen was darting forward with the sedative.

He stabbed it into the Hoix’s heavily muscled neck.  The alien roared but didn’t have time to react any more than that.  

It collapsed to the ground in a disgusting heap.

Owen looked down at it.  “You really are quite stupid.”

Rhys rolled his eyes.  He knelt down beside the Hoix, snapping on a pair of Weevil cuffs.  “We’re gonna have to wait to get the SUV back before we can move it,” he pointed out.  “This thing’s not gonna fit in the boot of my car.”

Owen’s comm clicked on, and he had his hand at his ear before he could think.

_“Attention... Torchwood employees!”_

The medic glanced at Rhys, whose eyes were narrowed in anger.  Jack had been more than happy to share with both Rhys and Patrick just who John Hart was on the trip out from the abandoned building that had almost been their death traps.

_“Evening all! Now, stop what you're doing…”_

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_The Torchwood Hub, Cardiff_ **

****

Jack gasped back to life as he always did, only to have a single, horrible flashback to his time on the _Valiant._

He was chained by his wrists, arms spread wide, his feet unable to touch the floor.  His mind was whispering to him as he comprehended his position, _the Master is coming, he’ll find another terrible way to kill you…_

It took him a second to recognise the Hub around him.  The familiar sight made it even worse.  He couldn’t help but scream and thrash about, needing to get free because this was his home and he shouldn’t be restrained like this…

Everything came back to him in a rush, and his eyes found John Hart.  His former partner was watching him, looking bored, and Jack wished he was free for a completely different reason.  He was standing next to the Rift Manipulator, and a sudden chill ran through Jack at the thought of John messing with that particular piece of equipment.

From where he was hanging, Jack could just make out a pair of feet protruding from under Toshiko’s desk.  He really did go cold then.  Was Patrick even still alive?  John had shot him, just before opening up on Jack himself.  Was his teammate dead? Had he led Patrick to his death?

“It’s about time,” John drawled as he made his way toward Jack.  “Comms and weapons have been removed, in case you were wondering.  Oh, and no hope of rescue…especially from your new friend there.”  He hooked a thumb back over his shoulder, toward where Patrick was lying.  “He’s a bit too busy bleeding out at the moment.”

“This is a little extreme, don’t you think?”  At least Patrick was still alive.  If there was any hope for him, Jack needed to keep John talking and hopefully get him to somehow let him go.  He still couldn’t see Deborah, and he had no idea what sort of shape she was in.

“What…suddenly you’re anti-bondage?” John smirked. 

“Why are you here?”  There had to be a reason John had returned, and with his brother apparently his prisoner as well.  Jack needed to know what was going on, the better to counter whatever the hell John had in mind.

“Well,” he answered, turning on his heel and going back to the computer he’d been standing beside when Jack had resurrected. “ _Now_ you're interested in me. It's always the same, nobody cares until you tie them up.” He began typing commands. “Number of reasons, actually. First of all, you were very rude to me.”

John really had gone insane.  Jack had always known his partner had been unhinged, but this was a completely different level of crazy.  “What?” Jack blurted incredulously.

“Very rude indeed. In front of people who barely knew me. You belittled me. Can't let that go.”  He didn’t look at Jack as he kept working, and the sense of dread the immortal had been feeling since he’d come back to life was only growing stronger.

“You’re serious?” This was just surreal.  As insane has John was, he usually made at least some sense, and this was far beyond what Jack could recall about his former partner. 

Something was seriously wrong.  John had always been a bit possessive; however, this was going way past anything that John had done in the past.

“Second,” John went on, “you have all of time. Eternity, essentially. And you still refused to spend time with me. After all we've been through together, after all I've done for you.”

Jack wanted to retort, “ _Like blowing up my team, killing me, tying me up and shooting one of my friends?’_ but managed to hold his tongue.  John was rambling, and it frightened Jack more than he could say.

“What have you done to my brother?”  Jack _needed_ to know.  Had he hurt Gray?  After all, John had shown no compunction whatsoever in hurting anyone, so it only made sense that he’d some something to Gray was well. 

John stopped what he was doing, and he stared at Jack.  His eyes looked dead, defeated, and Jack actually would have hated himself if he’d put that expression in them, but he had a feeling it wasn’t something he’d done specifically.  It wasn’t amid those things he’d done wrong in a long line of wrong things; they just kept building up, but at least this wasn’t one of those.

But no, Jack couldn’t afford to feel that way right then. He hadn’t made John the way he was; that had been his former partner’s own life choices, and the indoctrination of the Time Agency.  And his friend and teammate was lying on the floor of the Hub, perhaps already dead or close to it.

“You don't realise,” John finally said. “Actions…ramifications…ripples in the pond. It's beyond my control.”  He broke eye contact and started back on whatever it was he was doing.

At that moment, Jack knew he didn’t have any chance at all in talking John down.  For all his confidence that he might somehow be able to get John to listen to reason it wasn’t going to happen.  John was just far too gone for that.

“Beyond your control?” Jack reiterated.  “What the hell does that mean?”

“It really is. You need to understand that.”  He made his way back to the Rift Manipulator, and began pulling cabling loose.  “So…localise the Rift storms…a few short sharp shocks...”

“Don’t touch that!” Jack couldn’t help but panic then.  What John was messing about with was dangerous, and despite his ex-partner’s 51st century knowledge there was no way he could even hope to control the Rift.

“OI!” John shouted.  “I’m working here!”

He flipped up the cover of his Vortex Manipulator and pushed a button.

Jolts of electricity travelled along the chains that were wrapped about Jack’s wrists, burning across his nerves and making his body jerk spasmodically.  Jack cried out, not bothering to hold in the sound of his pain, knowing that letting John hear just what he was doing was the trick to getting him to stop sooner rather than later.  If Jack had attempted to remain stoic, John would have just upped the amperage in order to get a response.

“If you don’t want that again,” John warned, “you’ll keep quiet.”

He flipped the electricity off, and Jack simply hung limply in his chains, panting heavily.  There wasn’t a thing he could do to stop John from doing whatever it was he was doing. 

John was muttering to himself, and it was too low for Jack to hear despite his little better than average hearing.  Jack did manage to catch the words, “More power,” as the ex-Time Agent picked up a spare cable and plugged it into the Manipulator.  The column within the centre of the machine began to move, and Jack couldn’t help but be absolutely terrified. 

After Bilis Manger had tried to get them to open the Rift, Jack had taken precautions against it happening ever again.  He’d destroyed the Manipulator Key that Manger had somehow gotten a hold of from Torchwood One, and had had Toshiko program in their own set of failsafes that would keep pretty much anyone out of the systems. 

It looked as if John had somehow managed to by-pass those failsafes.

It should have been impossible.  Toshiko was the best there was, and he’d had confidence that no one would have been able to get around her security measures.  And yet, there was Hart doing just that from what Jack could tell in his position. 

“Well, that’s about done it.”  John looked satisfied as he took a couple of steps back from the Manipulator.  “I think it’s about time we found ourselves a nice vantage point.”

“We’re going to stop you,” Jack vowed.

John raised an eyebrow. “Go on then…stop me.”  His face went almost blank.  “Actually, I hope you can.”

That stunned Jack, but not enough to stop him from struggling once more against the chains that bound him to the wall. 

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”  John came to stand just in front of Jack.  “Let’s get a good view, shall we?” He touched another control on his wrist strap, and the chains fell away, dropping Jack to the hard floor.

Jack landed wrong, not having expected that to happen.  He did try to fight back against Hart, but his arms felt like spaghetti from hanging from them and his knees were weak, his ankle throbbing with pain from the fall.  Whatever had channelled that electricity through him hadn’t been in the chains; it had actually been his own wrist strap.  Somehow John had changed its programming, and Jack didn’t have a chance to get it back under control before he was cuffed and pulled into a rough embrace.

The last thing he saw was one of Patrick’s feet twitching slightly as the Hub faded from view.

 

********** 

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_Cardiff Castle_ **

****

Jack immediately recognised where John had taken him.

“What the hell are we doing here?” he demanded, a little out of breath.

John dragged him forward, practically tossing him to the cold stone of the tower they’d teleported onto.  It had one of the best views of Cardiff; the short glimpse Jack had gotten before he’d ended up flat on his ass had shown the night lights of Cardiff around them, looking peaceful in the new darkness.

That peace was deceiving.

“This is a good view,” John shrugged. 

Jack tried to go for him again, but the power going through his wrist strap stopped him cold.  He thrashed against the tower floor, back slamming against the parapet wall as his body jerked under the assault. 

As quickly as it started, the torture ceased.  John waggled his finger at him.  “No struggling,” he admonished, his voice almost singing the words. 

“I can make this right for you,” Jack panted.  He really didn’t have much hope in talking John around, but he had to try.

“You don’t understand…you can never make this right.”  He sounded sorrowful as he touched his wrist strap once more, and Jack flinched before realising his ex-partner wasn’t going for the shock controls.  “Attention…Torchwood employees!”

Jack struggled to sit up, his eyes on John.  There was something off in his face; he could see a little expectation, but at the same time Jack could swear he really did seem…reluctant, to do what he was about to.  It confused the immortal, because if there was one thing John Hart wasn’t, it was reluctant to perform any act of mayhem.  In fact, John thrived on chaos. 

“Evening all! Now, stop what you’re doing…”

_“What have you done with Jack?”_ Owen’s voice sounded slightly tinny over the tiny speaker.

John smirked.  It was obvious he was now enjoying himself.  “Jack can't come to the comms right now. But if you leave a message, I'll be sure and pass it along.”

_“What've you done to him?”_ Tosh demanded.  _“And what have you done to Patrick and Deborah?”_

“No, no, wrong question!” John tsk’d “You should be asking, what am I about to do to _you_?”

_“Put Jack on, right now,”_ Ianto ordered, the growl in his voice deepening his Welsh accent.  Jack would have found it totally sexy if it weren’t for the circumstances he was currently in.

“Eye Candy!” the ex-Time Agent crowed. “That was so masterful…so bossy…so basically powerless.”

_“I claim the Rite of Vengeance,”_ the dragon snarled.  _“I claim the Rite of Vengeance for hurting my mate and my friends.  There will be nowhere you can hide, Hart.  I will find you.”_

_“So mote it be.”_ The rest of Torchwood witnessed the vow.

Jack couldn’t have loved his mate more in that moment.

It was his turn to smirk as John’s face paled at the pronouncement.  Did he really know what that sort of vow meant?  Did he know what would be coming for him, once a dragon had made that claim?  Because Ianto had meant every word, and the team had sealed the pact, and that was John Hart’s doom no matter how long it took for Ianto to hunt him down.

But John recovered from that a little, enough to say, “Get up to the roofs of your buildings. Quickly now, spit spot.”  His eyes went to Jack’s, and there were shadows in them that the immortal couldn’t really interpret.  “Cause if you don't, you'll miss all the fun! Hold on a minute…do I mean fun?  Or do I mean carnage?”  He actually winked at Jack, but it was a weak effort.  “I get them confused.  Are you running yet? No dawdling now!”  He flipped the wrist strap closed.  Then, leaning down, he heaved Jack to his feet and leaned him against the parapet, looking out over the city.

“Don’t do it,” Jack pleaded.  He didn’t know what Hart had in mind, but he knew it was going to be horrible.  “You don’t have to do this!”

“Yeah, I kinda do.”  There was a tinge of regret in his voice.  “I’m sorry.”

Cardiff was beautiful at night.  Jack loved looking down at the city from the highest point he could find, and before he’d had Ianto to go home to he’d spent many a night overlooking all of the human beings who lived, loved, and made their way through the streets of the place Jack had called home for longer than anyone else alive.  This place was more precious to him than his own, half-forgotten birthplace, and his heart ached for what John was about to do.

Because it was going to be terrifying.  Jack knew that down into his bones.

“Now,” John laughed into his comm, “Cardiff! Isn't it pretty? Doesn't it twinkle so? Take a good look. Remember this... because it all goes so quick…”

And hell began.

It was made up of twelve explosions.  Jack couldn’t help counting them as they went off all over the city, one by one.  They echoed over the sounds of the usual night noises, triggering other, more hideous sounds: screams, and alarms, and the rushing noise of fire and crashing and other things Jack didn’t want to think about. 

All he could do was stand there, and bear witness to the destruction John Hart had just caused to the place he loved.

“You’ve destroyed the city,” he whispered in horror. 

“Jack,” Hart whined, “hold me.” He wrapped his arms around Jack like an octopus, but he couldn’t even react to the unwanted touch. 

He was far too stunned to notice the proximity.

“What have you done?” Jack choked out, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Hart soothed.

Golden light flared up beside them, and at first Jack thought it was his dragon, coming to save him.  But not even a heartbeat later he realised what it was, and he began to struggle even as Hart kept murmuring platitudes as the Rift energy engulfed them.

Jack felt the unmistakable sensation of travelling in time.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_Central Server Station, Cardiff_ **

 

“Twelve major explosions,” Toshiko reported, horror lacing her words, “at strategic points across the city.  There's currently a surge in traffic trying to leave the city but the explosions have cut off all major routes in and out. Landlines, mobile phones and IT networks are all down, TV and radio off air. He's completely crippled us.”  Her PDA beeped.  “I’m also getting a huge Rift flare over at the castle.”  She looked up, and her dark eyes met Ianto’s.  There was anger and fear in them.  “It was generated by the Rift Manipulator at Torchwood judging from the energy signature.”

Ianto knew exactly what that meant:  Hart had taken Jack somewhere…or _somewhen_.

There was complete silence over the comms as the team digested just what had happened.

What John Hart had done.

And they still didn’t know what had been done with Patrick and Deborah.  He was certain that Jack himself was gone somewhere that Ianto couldn’t follow at the moment.

He and Toshiko were standing in the suddenly dark Central Server area, red emergency lights bathing everything in a horrific, bloody wash.  He turned back to the stacks, wondering where they were even going to start to fix this.  Whatever Hart had done had crippled Cardiff, and it was going to take everything they had in order to set things right.  He didn’t even want to think about how many people had been killed in the explosions, let alone the ones that would die in the chaos. It was overwhelming.

It took everything in Ianto not to completely break down.  “I want to hear from everyone,” he snapped, needing to know that at least the rest of his Torchwood family was alright, to know what their statuses were.

_“Shit,”_ Rhys answered succinctly.

Ianto couldn’t disagree with him.

_“The hospital’s lost all power,”_ Owen was first to speak, breathless.  _“The backup generators gave out in the blast. Every single machine in this hospital is down. It's a fucking disaster.”_

Ianto could imaging him running around, trying to save as many as he could.  Owen might swear up and down that he hated treating live patients, but the dragon also knew that the doctor was talking out of his arse.  Owen _cared_ , more than he would ever admit.

“And I hate to be the harbinger of doom here,” Toshiko added, “but the systems that serve the Turnmill Nuclear Power Plant have all gone offline.”

There was another round of silence. There really wasn’t anything anyone could say.

“Can we fix it from here?” Ianto asked.

Toshiko took a good look at the stacks that surrounded them.  “I can try, but doing it from the reactor would be easier and has a better chance at success.”

That would have to be their first priority.  They couldn’t even begin to look for Jack and the others until they’d saved the city from the possible fallout if the power plant went down.  That would have to be him and Toshiko, that he knew.

He was about to say so when another voice cut into the quiet.

_“Can anyone hear me?”_

Ianto’s heart leaped with joy. “Deborah! Are you hurt?”

_“No,”_ she answered, but there was something off in her voice that had Ianto on the verse of panicking once more, “ _but Patrick’s been shot.”_ She sobbed once, then managed to get back under control.  _“He’s still alive, but it looks bad…”_

Owen was swearing rather creatively over the comms.  _“I’m on my way. I can’t do anything here right now. Get something to try to stanch the bleeding…”_

_“I’m using my jacket.”_

_“Where’s the wound, darlin’?”_

Ianto could actually hear Owen running over the connection, and was forever grateful that their comms system ran independently of the rest of the city’s systems and that the Hub had its own generators.  He prayed that Owen would get there in time; they couldn’t lose Patrick, not to John Hart.

_“His upper chest.  There’s so much blood…”_

_“I’m gonna be there as soon as I can,”_ Owen promised.

“The roads are jammed,” Toshiko said. 

_“I’ll get him there,”_ Rhys vowed. 

“I’m going to fly Toshiko out to the power station,” Ianto said.  “We’ll get there much faster under dragon power than horsepower, as it were.”  He and his technician made their way out of the server building; there really wasn’t a thing they could do there at the moment and they needed to get the nuclear power plant from going critical before they would even think about fixing anything else at that moment.   “How did you escape Hart, Deborah?” He wanted to keep her talking until they were at least airborne, to keep her from freaking out too badly.

_“I don’t know,”_ she confessed. _“I was ambushed in the Tourist Office and dumped down into Jack’s former bunker.  I don’t know how long I was there, but suddenly the handcuffs I had on came open and I was able to escape.  Ianto, Jack must have died up here, judging from the blood splattered around…”_

He ground his teeth.  Hart was going to pay; the dragon would uphold his vengeance.  John Hart would not escape what he’d done to his family.  The man was dead, he just didn’t know it yet, and Ianto would be the one to carry that out. 

He couldn’t explain how or why Deborah had gotten free, but he trusted her to look after Patrick until Owen got there.

“We’re on our way to Turnmill,” he said into his comm.  “I’m going off comms until we get there.” They had yet to find a comm that would change with him, so he would have to remove it until he was human once more.  “Keep Toshiko apprised of everything.”

He received the chorus of agreement.

“You ready?” he asked Toshiko.

She was pale and haggard, and he wondered if the pain killers Owen had given her were beginning to wear off.  The dragon knew she also had to be scared to death, not just for Jack and Patrick, but also for Kathy and Andy Davidson, who were dealing not only with the chaos that had gone down at the Cardiff CID, but also the fact that the city had just experienced the worst attack in years.  The city would need them to step up. 

Just as the city would need Torchwood to once again save them all.

“Let’s do this,” Toshiko said, determined.

Ianto nodded once sharply, then he triggered his transformation.

They had work to do.

And then he was going to get his mate back from wherever Hart had taken him.


	8. Chapter 8

 

**_Circa 27 A.D._ **

**_Cardiff_ **

****

Jack had no idea where they were…or even when, because John could have taken them anywhere in space and time and there was no way Jack could tell, not from his surroundings.

Which was a whole lot of wilderness.

He stood in the middle of a field, with trees off in the distance.  There were no sounds except the wind and the rustling of the leaves.  The air was far fresher than what Jack was used to, and the sky clear and blue.  It was daytime; it had been night in Cardiff. 

Jack wondered just what was going on back at home, and he couldn’t help the shiver at that.  However, Hart had gotten all those explosives planted – and Jack suspected he’d used the Rift to put them exactly where he’d wanted them – it had meant so much death and devastation…the city would be in chaos, and his team was back in the centre of it all.

Jack had faith in his people.  Ianto could lead the team in whatever relief efforts were needed.  Owen would be able to get to Patrick in time and save him, and they would find Deborah, wherever Hart had hidden her.  Was she even still alive?  Had he simply gotten rid of her?  Hart was capable of anything, up to and including murdering a young woman in cold blood.  She could be in the Hub now, hidden in some cubby or room, and it would take the team forever to find her…

No, he had to believe that Ianto would find her; her and Patrick, and save them.  He couldn’t entertain any other thoughts.

Hart had used the Rift to bring Jack to wherever the hell he was now.  That energy would have boosted his Vortex Manipulator, which meant Jack really could be anywhere or any time.  The first thing he needed to do was figure that out, and once he did he could find a way to get home…

Footsteps in the grass behind him had Jack spinning on his heel, and dropping into a defensive crouch.

Hart was walking toward him from the trees.  “We're safe,” he said, sounding relieved. “Now, before you do anything rash, you have to hear – “

Jack felt a great sense of satisfaction when his punch landed squarely in John’s face.  It didn’t even matter that his hand stung a bit from it.  “Take me back now!” he growled, standing over the fallen form of his ex-partner.

“No way,” John scoffed, clambering to his feet and wiping his mouth.  To Jack’s pleasure there was blood on the man’s lips. “We have to be this far to escape the trigger signal.”

Just what was John on about?  “Trigger signal?”

Hart held out his arm, exposing his wrist strap.  “Go on,” he goaded.  “Look at it!”

Jack leaned over despite his natural caution about anything having to do with John Hart. “Damn,” he couldn’t help but gasp when he got a look.

The leather of the Vortex Manipulator had somehow been bonded the Hart’s own skin.  The area resembled scar tissue, as if it had grown up around the foreign material, the edges slightly raw looking.  It made Jack want to gag, and he swallowed hard to keep from losing his lunch.

“I can’t get it off,” Hart said unnecessarily.  He jerked toward Jack.  “Go ahead…open it.”

Jack flipped the cover open.  The moment he caught a glimpse of what had been connected to the mechanism he took a hasty step back.  “Eighth generation detonator?”  He might come back from an explosion but he didn’t relish finding out.

“Ninth, actually.”  He pulled the cuff of his eponymous jacket back over the mess that was now his wrist.  “Add to that a surveillance circuit, to monitor my every word and action, and he has me doing anything I'm told.”

And then it clicked.

The way Hart had been acting back at the Hub, subdued and angry.  It had been some sort of an act, for whoever had control over the bomb now attached to the ex-Time Agent’s arm.  John had always been crazy, but his actions had been different this time. 

Jack was mad at himself for not realising it, but then it had been centuries since he’d spent that much time around Hart. 

John was still speaking, and Jack tuned back in to the rest of the rant.  “Because if I don't... boom! I'm not my own man. I thought you'd see that. But oh no…you're so self-obsessed you thought I'd want to blow up your stupid city! When I could be experiencing seventeen simultaneous pleasures in the Lotus Nebula!”

Alright, that did make him feel just a bit guilty, but John had never been particularly stable and judging him by certain behaviours had become second nature even after all the time that had gone by. 

He’d misjudged Hart, but that that didn’t really excuse the man from everything he’d done.   And it didn’t explain what had happened to Gray.

Jack was about to say just that when he noticed John’s eyes go wide with what could only be described as fear.  “Run.”

“Run from what?” Jack demanded, turning.

And his knees almost went out from under him.

The man walking toward them appeared to be younger than Jack, his hair a bit lighter and much shorter, and his eyes a bit darker.  The clothes he was wearing were dun coloured and ill-fitting, and not at all Earth fashion.  From where he was standing Jack could just make out a scar on the other’s man’s neck, hideous and ropy and obviously old.

He was a stranger, but Jack had recognised him immediately, as he had in the hologram back at the destroyed building.

“Hello, Jamys.”

“Gray?” 

The smile that broke out across Jack’s face would have rivalled the sun in brightness.  He’d tried so hard to find Gray…his brother…the one he’d let down so many years ago and centuries from now…but he’d always failed, never discovering even the barest hint of a trail.  He’d once hoped that the Doctor would have been able to help him, but that had never happened, and when he’d gotten stranded on Earth Jack had had to finally give up. 

Of course, when he’d discovered his immortality, Jack had realised that he literally had all of time to find his brother again.  Being on Earth was just a hiccup in his plans.

When he’d told Ianto about Gray, the dragon had promised to help him once they made it out amongst the stars.  It had been the main impetus for Jack’s patience.

He’d never given up that Gray was out there somewhere, and that Jack would one day find him.

But there he was, standing just a short distance away, smiling. 

John Hart had really found him.

However, there was a small voice at the back of his mind screaming at him to be careful, that Hart had just confessed that he was being controlled by someone…and that expression of fear in John’s eyes when he must have seen Gray approaching.

Jack didn’t care.

Tears prickling his eyes, Jack surged forward and wrapped his little brother in a rough hug.  “Oh, Goddess,” he moaned, “it’s really you.”

Gray returned the hug one-armed.  “It’s really me.  I never stopped believing that someday you’d find me.”

“I’m sorry,” he wept into his brother’s shoulder.  “I’m so very sorry.”

He felt Gray sigh in his grasp and then tense.  “Sorry isn’t good enough, big brother.”

Sharp pain erupted through Jack’s stomach.  He staggered back, eyes finding the dagger that was sticking out of his abdomen.

Put there by his very own brother. 

Shock and disbelief coursed through Jack as he fell to the ground.  He knew he was dying…he looked up at Gray, at the grim little smile on that much-loved face, and heard him tell Hart to get a shovel.

As he took his last breath, Jack mourned for the little brother that he’d lost to his own negligence.  The brother who must have been controlling Hart all this time.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything medical in this chapter came from Google or TV, because I'm not a doctor.

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_The Torchwood Hub, Cardiff_ **

****

Owen decided he’d never question Rhys’ driving skills… _ever_ again.  The man was the most careful _maniac_ he’d ever had the displeasure of being in the same vehicle with…and he’d ridden with Jack Harkness for years now. 

Even as he was cussing for that time Rhys almost hit a little old lady by taking a sidewalk in order to avoid a traffic tangle Owen had to be grateful for the “take no prisoners” attitude his fellow team member was taking in getting them to the Hub.  He was clutching the dashboard in sheer terror as the medic was mentally cataloguing everything he’d need to save Patrick’s life.

He wasn’t even going to accept that the weapon-happy bastard was going to die.  Not on his watch.

He’d really hated leaving the hospital, but he was only one man.  The doctors and nurses had things in hand as well as could be expected with the bloody power out, and had had enough training in dealing with this sort of circumstance that hopefully they’d be able to handle it. 

But he wasn’t about to leave Deborah alone with a bleeding Delaware.  Dragon Boy had made certain everyone on the team had basic first aid, but that kid didn’t know the first thing about taking out a bullet.  He had to hope she’d keep her head…but then, she’d been through shit people just wouldn’t understand, and she’d coped.

He’d considered telling her to go and get the kit from the autopsy bay, but Owen didn’t know how much blood Patrick was losing, and he didn’t want to risk her taking any pressure off that wound.  She was bound to be exhausted by the time they arrived, plus there was no telling just what Hart had done to her.  He hoped she wasn’t hurt and hiding it, because if she was they were gonna have words.

Deborah did keep him updated as much as she could, and from her description Owen guessed that the bullet had gone high and into the shoulder, possibly shattering either the clavicle or penetrating deep enough to at least take a chip out of the scapula.  If Patrick didn’t die from blood loss, he was gonna have a lot of physical therapy to do in order to get range of motion back.  He didn’t envy whatever therapist Ianto arranged having to deal with him.  From experience Patrick was a crap patient.

Owen knew that worrying about Delaware and Deborah was hiding the very real fear of what Hart was doing to Jack.  The bastard knew that Jack was immortal, and crazy enough to do something with that knowledge, as it were.  If he was really that upset with Jack, Hart was capable of anything.  What made it worse – and he knew everyone else was thinking it too – was that Rift signal from the castle.  Hart had to have taken Jack somewhere, and they had no fucking idea how to go about getting him back.

Not that that would necessarily stop Ianto, of course.  Nothing got between a dragon and his mate.

The area around the Plass was dark from the loss of power when Rhys pulled up and parked illegally in front of the Millennium Centre.  Any other time Owen knew he would go round to the carpark, but the coppers would have their hands too full with all the other shit going on to take time out to ticket them for it.  Owen was out of the vehicle almost before it had come to a stop, pounding down the Plass with Rhys on his heels, making for the shortest way down into the Hub: the invisible lift.

The lift rumbled into life as soon as they were both on the slab and Rhys had used the keyfob he carried with him to activate the mechanism.  Owen’s stomach did the swoop it usually did when he rode on the lift, but he ignored it as they descended into the Hub. 

As they passed the pteranodon’s nest there was a screech that echoed throughout the large space, as Myfanwy voiced her displeasure.  Owen could see the bars of the gate that kept her inside; her long beak was sticking out through the gate, her darks eyes watching as they passed.  She clacked her beak at them, and while Owen really didn’t care for the thing one bit he couldn’t blame her for not liking being locked up like that. 

The medic caught sight of his two teammates.  Patrick was on the floor by Toshiko’s station, not moving, while Deborah leaned over him, straddling Patrick’s waist, using both hands to press her jacket against his chest.  Even from above Owen could see the strain in her face, far too pale in the light of the Hub, a bruise stark against her forehead. 

Yep, he was definitely gonna have words with her.

Owen practically leaped off the slab as soon as it was safe to do so, heels slamming against the concrete that made up the Hub’s floor as he ran toward the two, Rhys’ own footsteps sounding just behind him.  Owen was down on his knees beside them, his fingers checking the pulse in Patrick’s neck.

It was there, but it was thready and weak.

He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. “Let’s get him up and into medical,” he ordered. “Rhys, give me a hand with him; Deborah, try to keep the pressure on as we move him.”

The girl carefully clambered off Patrick, trying to keep the jacket in place against the chest wound even though her arms were visibly shaking.  As soon as she was clear, Rhys grabbed Patrick’s feet and Owen under his shoulders, lifting the American and carrying him down into the autopsy bay.

Owen was glad that Dragon Boy was anal enough to keep at him about leaving things off the examining table as they rested their burden onto it.  He reached up and turned on the large lamp that overhung the table, giving himself plenty of light, relieved that the Hub had its own generator because there wasn’t anything more fun that operating in the dark, then he put on a pair of gloves and rested his hands over Deborah’s.  “You can let go now, sweetheart,” he instructed her softly.

Her small, bloody, hands pulled away, and Deborah let out a small sob as she stepped back. “I did the best I could,” she whispered. 

“You did just fine,” Owen assured her.  “Rhys, pull that cart over here, wouldja?”  He used one hand to wave toward the table of instruments that was just behind him.

The one squeaky wheel of the cart made a godawful racket as the Welshman did as he was told. 

“Deborah, I need you to get into the fridge in the back and bring me three bags of Patrick’s blood,” Owen went on as he slowly pulled the jacket away to reveal his friend’s chest.  “Also, grab one of Jack’s as well.”  Harkness was a universal donor, what with his 51st century genetics and, even though his immortality didn’t have anything to do with his blood, there was some sort of advanced healing factor in it that might help in this circumstance.  “It’s all marked, so don’t worry about getting the wrong stuff.”

“Alright,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady now.  Owen was proud of her for getting herself back under control.

“Rhys, help me get his jacket off.”  Together the two men lifted Patrick up, which brought out an unconscious moan from the American, and they eased off the blood-stained leather jacket.  Owen checked for an exit wound; there was none, which had him cursing.  An exit wound would have made things a lot easier; now he was going to have to perform surgery to get to the bullet.

The shirt underneath was red and wet, and it sucked slightly as Owen pulled it away from Patrick’s skin.  He’d guessed right; the bullet wound was high in the chest.  Patrick was just damned lucky it hadn’t punctured his lung.

Deborah was back with the blood, and Owen directed her to bring him the Bekaran scanner as he put Rhys to work as his assistant, asking for scissors so he could cut away the ruined shirt.  Blood was seeping steadily from the wound, which was actually a good sign; the projectile hadn’t hit an artery or else Patrick would have been dead already.

“We need to get that blood hung,” he muttered, probing the wound with practiced fingers. 

“I can get it set up,” Rhys answered, “but you’ll have to do the actual IV.”

“Get yourself a pair of gloves and get to it then.” 

Deborah handed over the scanner, and Owen passed her some bandages and instructed her to keep applying pressure.  Even though Patrick wasn’t bleeding heavily at the moment, he didn’t need to be losing any more. 

Everything didn’t look all that bad really.  The bullet had managed to completely miss the lung and the subclavian vein, but had shattered a rib and was wedged up against the clavicle, taking a chunk out of it as well.  There were bone chips all over the place, and Owen knew he’d have to get those out as he was going in for the bullet.  Anything else in either direction and things would have been a hell of a lot worse.  He’d still have to be careful about those bone chips shifting, because one of them could do a shitload of damage if they moved too much.

Patrick should have been in a hospital.  The only problem with that was that John bloody Hart had knocked out the power.  Owen would have to do the surgery here if he had any hope of not causing any more damage than what was already there.

“Alright you two,” he said, looking away from his patient for the few moments it took to meet their eyes, “I’m gonna need to do the surgery here, and you’re both gonna help me.  Find some scrubs and get gloved up.”

Both of them moved without any sort of talkback, for which Owen was grateful.  He’d have his hands full without having either of them fight them on it. 

“You’d better pull through, you bastard,” he snarled softly, taking the packed bandage away from the wound once more in order to squirt saline around the hole to clean away the blood there, “cause there’s no way I’m explaining this to your fucking scary family…”

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

**_Circa 27 AD_ **

**_Cardiff_ **

****

Jack had come back to find his hands cuffed in front of him.

He just couldn’t believe it.  His brother had killed him. 

Crushing guilt overwhelmed him, the half-forgotten words his mother had spat at him so many times coming back to him.  She’d blamed him for losing Gray, and she’d been right to do so.  He’d let go of his brother’s hand, and he’d been taken by the raiders that had attacked their colony. 

He really was to blame. 

A hole had been dug; it was too much like a grave to doubt what it was for.  He was surprised that the notion of being buried alive didn’t frighten him.  In fact, he felt as if he deserved it, for abandoning his only brother to the raiders.  Jack deserved to be punished, but he couldn’t help the last plea he could give.

“I searched for you,” he cried. 

Gray wouldn’t look at him.  He stood with his back toward Jack, and the immortal couldn’t blame him for it.  Hart stood nearby, his expression one of horror.  He wished he could tell John not to worry, that everything was fine, but he couldn’t spare the man any sort of pity.

He was using it all up on himself.

“I searched for you for years,” he went on.  “You were my first thought, every day.”

Gray spun back around at that, his eyes dark with hatred.  “What are you expecting? A loving reunion? Absolution? Me to say, ‘ _It's alright, brother, I forgive you_.’?"  He stalked forward, face twisting with rage.  “Those creatures…they lived to torture. They kept us just on the verge of life. I'd lie there, hemmed in by corpses, praying to become one. Because you let go of my hand!”  He was shouting, spittle spraying from his lips in his rage.  “Remember?”

Jack’s chest hurt, too full of guilt and despair for his heart to work properly.  “I’d do anything to have traded places with you.”

He would have, too.  Anything to have kept this from Gray, to have protected the baby brother he’d failed so utterly.  Not even his Year in hell could match the agony he was feeling in that moment.

Jack remembered that day all too well.  It was one of the things that had never quite faded for him, as much as he’d tried to push the memory deep in his mind.  The feel of the heat of the sand through his boots as he ran; the coldness of Gray’s hand in his as he pulled his brother toward the trees; the soft slide as Gray’s hand left his.  Jack hadn’t even known that his brother hadn’t been right behind him until he’d reached cover, and then it was horribly apparent that Gray was gone.

He hadn’t kept himself safe after that, running out onto the beach to find Gray and take him away from the carnage.  He’d been desperate to locate his brother, but his little body hadn’t been among those that had died that day…including their own father.

It was no wonder both his mother and brother hated him so much.

“I believed you'd come, but you never did,” Gray went on inexorably. “How long before you gave up, Jamys? Months? Years? Decades?” 

Jack felt the words pound into his soul, tearing huge chunks away.  “What do you want from me?” he asked in defeat, knowing he’d never be able to make this up.  There was nothing in the entire universe that could make this right.

Gray got right up into Jack’s face.  “I want you to suffer.”  His eyes lit up with unholy glee. “I want your life.”  He stepped back, throwing his arms out to encompass their surroundings.  “This is Cardiff. 27AD. The city will be built here, over the next 2,000 years. Your grave will be the city's foundations. Your blessing of life becomes a curse.”

There was a near-soundless breath of dismay from Hart, but Jack couldn’t look at him.  He’d guessed this was what was going to happen; the grave had been a giveaway to Gray’s plan.  But knowing it for certain still didn’t make Jack afraid. It was his penance for abandoning his brother, even though Jack had meant to go and look for him again once he’d gotten to the proper time. Ianto had promised to help.

Now there was no help. 

“Each time you revive, with a throatful of earth,” Gray whispered, “each time it chokes you, and you thrash on the edge of death, you think of me…”

“Okay,” Hart interrupted, “I’m calling a halt to this right now.  I can’t let this happen.”

He took a step forward, but Gray didn’t even let Hart get close before he was pushing Jack backward, shoving him into the hole in the ground.  The immortal hit the bottom hard, the breath knocked out of him, and as he lay there all he could do was stare up at his brother, who was looming at the side of the grave, a strange smile on his face. 

“Fill the grave.”

Jack could just see John, standing next to Gray, shaking his head.  “No way.”  His words were choked with emotions that Jack doubted his ex-partner had felt in a very long time.

But then, John understood.  He’d realised just what Jack went through with his immortality from the moment he’d found out about it.  He might not be able to sympathise – because, face it, there wasn’t a sympathetic bone in John Hart’s body – but somehow he just got how terrible it all was. 

It was almost enough to make Jack forgive him.

“Then the detonator on your arm gets activated.”

John reared back, his hand unconsciously going to the wrist strap bonded to his skin.  He actually looked as if he was going to keep fighting Gray on this, but Jack couldn’t allow him to do that.  It wasn’t worth it… _he_ wasn’t worth it.

Jack had done this to Gray.  It was his fault.  And no one else should have to pay the price.  Cardiff had already suffered enough. 

His team had suffered enough.

Patrick could be dead, as could Deborah.  And how many innocents had been hurt or killed when those bombs had gone off?  No, it was time to put an end to it.  For Gray to get the revenge he wanted.

Jack was ready.

He mourned his lost mate.  Ianto would of course do everything in his power to find him, but Jack knew he never would.  He’d be buried forever. 

They would never get their eternity. 

A single tear tracked down Jack’s face, and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. 

John was staring down at him, indecision warring with determination.  He was actually considering taking his chances, Jack knew.  He couldn’t allow that. 

In that moment Jack truly loved John Hart despite everything he’d done.  He couldn’t let the man suffer because of him.

From his position within the grave, Jack nodded once, giving John permission to do what Gray wanted.  John didn’t like it, that was obvious from the surprise on his face, but Jack couldn’t let him take the risk that Gray would really do what he threatened. 

Then a small, private smile crossed John’s lips. 

Jack watched as John removed a ring from his finger.  He kissed it, then tossed it down to land on Jack’s chest. 

Jack knew what it was. 

John Hart really as a sneaky bastard.

Still, it wouldn’t negate the need for Jack to commit to this act of penance, but for the first time since Gray had stabbed him Jack felt a sliver of hope.

“What was that?” Gray demanded.

“It…has sentimental value,” John answered somewhat flippantly.  He then reached for the shovel.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, but I don't think you'll mind. *grins*

 

**_Interlude_ **

**_Underneath Cardiff_ **

****

The first time Jack awoke after dying, it reminded him of the time the Master had decided that smothering was a good way to kill him.

The second time, it was the crushing feeling of all that Earth on top of him.

The third time…was different.

The weight was gone, as was the sensation of the lack of air in his lungs.

Jack lay there, puzzled.

_“Did you honestly think we would leave you alone to die, over and over again?”_

That voice…

Jack laughed.  He couldn’t help it.  It might have been pitch black and he couldn’t move, and there were a lot of _somethings_ crawling all over him, but he could still laugh.

_“You are the chosen mate of our son, we will not let you suffer.”_

But wait…

_“We have not met…yet.  But we know of you, Jack Harkness.  Your coming has long been foretold.  You are the chosen mate of the one who will be The Last.  And we shall protect you with all of our power.”_

Jack could feel it.  He could feel the Earth around him, embracing him; the Air that was allowing him to breathe; the Fire that was now warming him; the Water that was keeping him alive.  He might have been trapped deep below where Cardiff would one day be, but he wasn’t alone.

_“Sleep, child.  Sleep the long centuries away, and our magic shall watch over you until it is time for you to arise once more.”_

Somewhere out there, his mate was growing up in an isolated valley in the mountains.  Someday, he would have a vision of a mating with a blue-grey dragon.  In the future, a jaded immortal would meet the last dragon in the world. 

Jack slept, and he dreamed, deep within the Earth that cradled him like his long-lost parent, protecting him from harm as Cardiff grew over him.  As the magic of the four Great Dragons surrounded him, and altered him in ways he wouldn’t realise for centuries.

Jack Harkness…Jamys Franklinson…slept, and dreamed, and changed.


	12. Chapter 12

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_The Torchwood Hub, Cardiff_ **

****

Owen leaned back, his neck cracking as he straightened.  He couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face, feeling pleased with the job he’d done on Patrick’s chest and shoulder.

The bastard was going to need a bit of physical therapy, but he’d make a full recovery.

Rhys was smiling as well, although he looked a bit pasty.  “Good job, mate.”

Deborah was also happy, her dimples showing.  “He’s going to be fine then.”

“Of course he is!’ Owen exclaimed.  “I’m shocked that you both would think otherwise!  I am, after all, a genius.”

“As you like to keep reminding us,” Rhys agreed, rolling his eyes.

It hadn’t taken as long as Owen had thought it would, which was a good thing.  The bone chips had been removed, and he’d had to use surgical glue to stick the broken rib together, not to mention the whacking great gouge in Patrick’s shoulder blade, but the surgery had gone as well as expected.  He’d be down for at least a month, not counting rehab time, but everything would be aces.

As he’d been operating, they’d received a report from Ianto and Toshiko.  They’d arrived at the Turnmill Power Station, and Toshiko was busily trying to get the reactor under control.  She still wasn’t certain she could help the tech who’d stayed behind, but she was doing her best, and with Tosh her best was enough. 

Rhys was removing his sterile gloves.  Both his and Owen’s scrubs were blood-stained; Deborah had acted as nurse, and had come off much better.  The pair of them had followed his directions perfectly, even though he’d had to explain a few things along the way, but as soon as Jack got back Owen was going to let him know exactly just how helpful Rhys and Deborah had been.  If they hadn’t been there, Owen doubted he’d have been able to do what he’d needed to do in order to save Patrick’s life.

Of course he wasn’t about to say that to their faces.

Owen was about to tell them to clean up when the alarms within the Hub went off.

_“Owen,”_ Ianto said over the comms at the exact same moment, _“according to the PDA there’s an intruder within the Hub.  I just felt a Rift surge…”_

“We got it, Dragon Boy.”  Owen snapped off his own gloves and grabbed the gun that he’d set down while he’d been working on Patrick.  “The alarms are going off fit to burst in here.”  He turned to Rhys.  “Get your gun and let’s see what’s going on.  Deborah, stay in here with Patrick.  There’s a spare gun in my desk.”

She nodded, even though Owen knew she didn’t like guns all that much.  He could count on her to protect their injured colleague in any way she knew how.

_“Be careful,”_ Ianto warned.

“You just worry about us not blowing up,” Owen snarked as he and Rhys left the autopsy bay and made their way into the main Hub. “We’ll take care of whoever broke in here.”  He was just in a bad enough mood that he might well shoot first and ask questions later.  If it was Jack, then he’d come back to life and give Owen grief for killing him; if it was Hart, then the twat deserved to die.

“Well, there you are.”

Owen had his gun up and ready, and it was only because they didn’t have a clue as to where Jack was that he didn’t pull the trigger.

Rhys was right beside him. Gone was the friendly Welshman most everyone else saw; he’d been replaced by an implacable killer, ready to do whatever it took to make Hart pay for what he’d done.

Hart had his hands up. “Woah there, Trigger!”

“Get on your knees,” Owen ordered.  They needed to get Hart under control before Owen lost his and put a bullet somewhere it would do the most good.

 Hart had the gall to roll his eyes.  “Honestly, it’s just sex, sex, sex with you people!”

Owen wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response.  “I ought to shoot you where you stand, but you need to tell us what happened to Jack.  Now…down!”

Hart obeyed, although he looked extremely reluctant to do so. 

“Hands behind your head.”

“Look,” Hart said, doing what Owen told him to, “I know where Jack is.”

“Of course, you do,” Rhys scoffed, “because you’re the one who took him!”

“Okay yeah,” Hart conceded, “but I came back to help you.”

“Like we’re gonna trust you!” Owen snarled.

“Jack is buried alive somewhere under this city!” Hart protested. 

It was all Owen could do to keep himself from beating the shit out of Hart in that moment.  He’d wondered just what the bastard was capable of, but that hadn’t been it.  It was worse than what the Master had done, back during that Year.

“Listen to me!” Hart went on. “You have to believe me. It's Gray, Jack's brother!  He's been doing all this.”

Even as Rhys was calling Hart a liar, Owen considered just what the man was telling them.  Jack had been the one to identify the young man that Hart had shown them over his wrist strap, but he’d looked more of a prisoner than a murdering mastermind.  He’d seemed like some scared kid.

But there was something about Hart…he just couldn’t figure it out.  He needed more proof before he’d completely believe what the ex-Time Agent was telling them.

“He placed a bomb on me,” Hart explained. “Molecularly bonded the detonator to my skin. I had to do what he wanted.”  He stood up, holding out his wrist. “Look!”  He practically forced his arm under Owen’s nose, and he couldn’t help but notice that Hart was telling the truth in this case.  He felt a little sick at the sight of the leather melded into Hart’s skin, as if the flesh had grown up over it.  “He forced me to bury Jack under Cardiff in the past and then he freed me. He told me I could go anywhere I wanted. I could've run, but I chose to come back here.”

Owen was beginning to waver.  There was just enough evidence to show that Hart was being honest, but he needed to know more.  “How can we trust you?” he demanded. He lowered his gun slightly, trusting Rhys to keep Hart covered.

Hart looked down, as if he was gathering his thoughts.  When he glanced back up, his expression was resolved.  “When I was here last time, I…lied about finding Gray.  I did it to get back at Jack.  But when I got back to the future I ran into…trouble.”

“Read: law enforcement.”

He didn’t bother to deny it.  “I decided that it would be worth my time to actually go and find Gray.  It took me a while, but…he was chained up in the ruins of a city on the Bedlam Outlands...surrounded by corpses.”

“Bloody hell,” Rhys breathed.

Owen couldn’t disagree.

“He was the only one left,” Hart went on. “The creatures that had held him were long since gone. Dunno how long he'd been there.”  He sighed. “I thought I was the rescuing hero.  So, it took me too long to realise he'd learned terrible things watching those creatures. He let me trust him...”

Then Hart cried out, doubling over his arm where the wrist strap was.  “The molecules are unbonding just like he promised,” he cried out, fingers scrabbling at the Vortex Manipulator.  He began to undo the wrist strap, the skin attached to it pulling away with a sticky, sucking noise that made Owen’s stomach lurch.  He could hear Rhys gagging beside him, but his teammate’s gun never wavered.

The strap came undone, and it took quite a bit of skin with it if Owen was any judge.  The area was red and inflamed, but Hart laughed as he pulled it free with enough force that his arms were thrown out wide.

It was disgusting, and Owen wasn’t afraid to say so out loud.

“I’m a free man,” Hart sighed in relief. He took a couple of deep breaths as if he were trying to work past the pain.  “I didn't have to come back here. I could've run.  Now will you trust me?”

“You find Jack, I'll let you live,” Owen bargained. “But you'd better be quick.”

Hart flipped open his Vortex Manipulator. “Toshiko, I need you to run a trace for an etheric particle signal NME transmitting at 200 betacycles.”

There was silence over the comms, and then a very angry growling sounded over the open channel.  _“Where is my mate?”_

Owen had never heard Ianto so angry before.  It occurred to him that it didn’t matter what promise he’d made to Hart, that there was a furious dragon out there who’d sworn vengeance against the man in front of him and there would be nothing that could stand in the way of that. 

Hart had the common sense to look scared.  “Just have Toshiko scan for that signal, Eye Candy, and you’ll find Jack.  I put a tracker on him.”

“Hart says that Jack is buried somewhere under Cardiff,” Owen said, knowing he was about to really piss the dragon off, but Ianto had to know what was going on.

_“Nothing is going to save you from me, Hart,”_ Ianto vowed.

“Fine! Alright!” Hart shouted.  “But just run that scan!”

“We have him covered,” Owen added. 

There was a pause, then Toshiko said, _“There’s no signal like that anywhere in the city.”_

“There must be!”  Hart actually sounded panicked.  “That transmitter was guaranteed for five millennia through three ecological perma-layers...it has to still be transmitting! If not, we'll never find him. He'll be buried...forever.”

_“I will find him,”_ Ianto said assuredly. 

“And just how do you propose to do that?” Hart demanded.  He looked disappointed that his little piece of whatever tech he’d placed on Jack had failed.

_“Like I’m going to tell you?”_ the dragon scoffed.

Of course, Owen knew about the dragon’s ability to sniff out Rift spikes…and how that also let him sense the Vortex energy that kept Jack immortal.  “You think you can do it?” he asked.  He had to make sure.

_“I will always find my mate,”_ Ianto assured him.

_“Go, Ianto,”_ Toshiko urged.  _“I think we have things in hand here, and if Jack’s been buried…”_

_“How long?”_  The promised threat in those two words made even Owen shiver, and it wasn’t aimed in his direction.

Hart actually swallowed.  Hard.  “Nearly two thousand years.”

_“You can go nowhere where I cannot find you,”_ the dragon promised. 

“It wasn’t me!” Hart tried to explain. “It was Jack’s brother, Gray!  He’s nuts!  He wants revenge on Jack for what happened to him when they were kids.”

And then, the intruder alarm went off in the Hub once more.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_Turnmill Nuclear Power Station, Cardiff_ **

****

Ianto knew that Toshiko was lying about having things well in hand.

The nuclear core was overheating, and the one lone tech who’d decided to stay and try to fix things had given up minutes before Hart had called them about Jack.  Toshiko was still trying – she would never give up – but there didn’t seem to be that much more anyone could do to prevent the power plant from going into meltdown.

“You need to go and find Jack,” Toshiko said. 

“What are you going to do here?” He was almost afraid to hear her answer.  There really wasn’t much she _could_ do from what Ianto was seeing.

“There’s one more thing I can try,” she said.  “If I can somehow cool the core without using the actual coolant system…”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

She smiled at him, a smirk that was almost teasing in nature.  “I propose to open a channel through the earth to the bay, and flood the thing.  Then I can close the channel to keep the radiation from flowing back out to sea.”

Ianto was speechless.  It made sense.  “Are you sure you can do it?”

He knew Toshiko was powerful, tapping into the power of the Earth Dragon, of whom she was Friended to, but to attempt something like that…it didn’t seem possible.  Magic wasn’t nearly as strong as it had once been, and while he didn’t want to doubt his friend he wasn’t sure she could actually accomplish such a feat.

She rolled her eyes at him.  “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.” 

Toshiko looked fairly confident, and so Ianto decided to let her try. At this point it couldn’t hurt. “Are you sure you won’t need my help?”

“Even you admit that your magic is relatively minor,” she answered.  “I can’t think of a single thing you can do that will help.”

She did have a point.  Not for the first time Ianto wished he’d paid attention to his father and the magical lessons he’d tried to instil in his only son.

“Alright,” he capitulated.  “But I want you to stay on comms with Owen and the Hub at all times.  I’ll be out of contact while in dragon form…”  It was the best way to cover distance at speed.

“I will,” she promised.  “Now go…and find your mate.”

Ianto nodded once, leaving Toshiko to her work.

He was in the air over Cardiff when the intruder alarm went off once more at the Hub.

He didn’t know about it until it was too late.

 

********** 

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_The Torchwood Hub, Cardiff_ **

****

“It’s Gray.”

John Hart’s pronouncement seconds after the intruder alarm went off was all that Owen needed to hear.

Rhys beat him to Toshiko’s workstation.  The Welshman had his gun tucked away, and was typing at the keyboard almost as fast as Dragon Boy could.  “He’s down in the cells,” he reported.

Owen was about to order Rhys and Hart to go with him down to face Jack’s nutjob brother when a terrible whistling sounded over the comms.

He had it out of his ear and tossed onto the floor before Owen even knew he was doing it.  “What the fuck is that?” 

“Weevils are loose in the lower levels,” Rhys said.  His brows were drawn, and Owen could tell he had a headache that matched his own after that godawful racket. 

“That’s just what we need,” Owen sighed. 

“It’s Gray,” Hart reiterated.  “Stirring up your Weevils would be just like him.  He swore he’d tear down Jack’s world, and this would make a dandy start.”

“We need to get the Weevils back in their cells.”  Owen pulled his gun, racking the slide.  Bullets weren’t that much of a deterrent against them, but they’d knock them for six long enough to get them back where they belonged.  “What’s the chance they tore Gray up and shat him back out?”

“Not hardly,” Rhys answered.  “According to the internal cameras they just passed him by once he let them out of the cells.”

“That’s bloody wonderful.”  They needed to head them off before they could get up to the main Hub; Owen didn’t want Patrick and Deborah to be sitting ducks. 

“Hart and me will take care of the Weevils – “ Rhys began.

“Oi! I don’t remember volunteering!”

 “– while you stay up here and keep watch on Deborah and Patrick,” the Welshman finished, ignoring Hart’s outburst.

It made sense.  With Gray loose in the Hub the unconscious Patrick was completely helpless, and Deborah didn’t have quite the same weapons experience that the rest of them did, despite Patrick insisting on training her.  And he didn’t dare wake Patrick up and have him move the wrong way.  The last thing he needed was for the American to undo all of Owen’s good work.

Besides, Rhys knew how to handle Weevils.  He and Patrick made a great team out in the field, and Owen could trust the man to do what needed to be done. 

He was about to say so when Toshiko’s terminal beeped.

Rhys turned back to it.  “We’re getting Weevil sightings all over the city.  There’re being drawn up from the sewers.”

“Alright.  You and Hart take care of things down in the lower levels.”  Owen wished there was some way to alert Kathy and Davidson, but without phones there was no way to warn them of the Weevil infestation.  He just had to trust them to handle things on the police side.  “You’re right; we can’t risk Gray sneaking in up here and getting his hands on Patrick and Deborah.  There’s no telling what he’d do to them, and Patrick can’t even defend himself.”

Then perhaps Toshiko could figure out the signal to get the Weevils back to where they belonged.  He could only hope.

“Let’s go, you.”  Rhys pushed Hart in the shoulder, to get him moving.

“You’re being too rough… and I don’t even know your name, big boy…”

Owen ignored the pair, knowing Rhys could handle Hart’s flirting.  He went back to the autopsy bay, where he leaned over the railing.  “We got trouble, sweetheart,” he told Deborah, who was sitting next to Patrick, a gun in her lap.  She looked scared, but ready for anything.  “Jack’s crazy brother let the Weevils out, and he’s somewhere in the Hub.  Don’t leave him, okay?  He can’t defend himself and there’s no telling what Gray will do to him.”

Deborah nodded once, her pretty face grim.  She’d follow his orders, Owen was certain.

He’d just turned back toward Toshiko’s station when he heard the shot.

Pain lanced through his abdomen, fierce and bright as the sun.

Owen went down hard, not even getting his gun up.  His last thought was, _‘Shit, I hate getting shot…’_

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_Bute Park, Cardiff_ **

****

The dragon landed in a small clearing in the centre of the park.

Ianto had no idea how he’d missed this so many times he’d been in the park.  The feeling was so very strong; the itching sensation in his hindbrain he always got around his mate, signalling the Vortex that kept him alive despite everything. 

Nearly two thousand years his mate had laid under this very ground, waiting for the dragon to come and save him.

His heart ached knowing that Jack had been put through this.  And by his brother as well, the one person who should have loved him unconditionally.

Of course, he knew the story of Herbert Grayson Wells, nicknamed Gray.  He’d been named after his mother’s side of the family, just as Jack – Jamys Franklinson – had been christened using his father’s family’s naming traditions.  He knew that Jack blamed himself for what had happened, just as his mother had as well, which had driven young Jamys away from home and into the army…and eventually to the Time Agency.  It had motivated him in everything he had done since, leading him to the Doctor, to Torchwood…and to Ianto. 

And it had led him to this. 

The dragon’s head weaved back and forth, trying to narrow down the area where his mate was buried.  There was also magic there; magic that was permeating the soil where Jack had been for nearly two thousand years. It was a familiar magic, of the deep Earth, soothing and calm as the darkness under a tree at night.

But it was also mixed with other magic as well: bright and warm; cool and wet; breezy and dry.  It was all the Great Dragons together, and suddenly the dragon knew that they’d been protecting his mate from the centuries that had passed while he lay deep underground. 

Raising a taloned hand, the dragon drove his claws deep into the soil, tearing up enormous hands’ full as he dug down to where his mate lay waiting for him.  Down and down he went, needing to find Jack and bring him back.

His mate was buried deep, but a dragon in search of his true mate was a force to be reckoned with.  He clawed up huge mounds of earth, the scent of it heady in his nostrils.

And then one claw caught in blue fabric.

Carefully now, Ianto scraped away the loam, revealing his mate.  Jack looked peaceful, sleeping under the night sky, like a prince in an ancient story, waiting for the right person to awaken him. 

There was a faint, golden glow surrounding Jack’s prone form that Ianto didn’t notice at first.  But then it flared into brilliance, dispelling the shadows in the darkened park and almost blinding the dragon.

Ianto shook his head…and reared back, gasping in shock even as he registered what he was seeing.

Another dragon was curled up on the ground before him.

This dragon was blue-grey, the colour of Jack’s signature greatcoat, scales glittering in the starlight that managed to penetrate the slight pollution haze in Cardiff’s atmosphere.  Blue slitted eyes blinked sleepily as the majestic head rose, shaking as if to clear away the fog of a long nap. 

“Ianto?” it spoke, in that familiar flat accent that was American, and yet not.

Tears that couldn’t be held back slipped down scaled cheeks. Ianto made a noise that didn’t even begin to cover the intensity of everything he was feeling.  This was…this was it.  This was the promise that had been made to him at this sister’s mating; the blue-grey dragon that would be his mate for eternity, that would be with him forever.

Toshiko had once pointed out that the dragon from Ianto’s vision had been the same shade as Jack’s greatcoat, and she’d suggested that it had been merely symbolic.  Ianto had agreed, because he’d known almost from the moment he’d met Jack that the immortal was his mate.  But this…this was impossible. 

This was magic.

Jack had held up one of his clawed hands, examining it in the faint light that shone from the scales like water.  His eyes were wide in pleased surprise, and he looked at Ianto with love shining from them.  “I think this makes it official, doesn’t it?” he quipped.

Ianto darted forward, wrapping his own neck sinuously around his mate’s.  “How is this possible?” he whispered, moving just enough to rub his cheek against Jack’s, revelling in the sensation of silky steel scales against his own.  He’d never once believed this would ever happen.

“I’m not sure,” Jack answered.  “I remember…the Great Dragons.  They came to me after…after I was buried.”  The sorrow in his voice broke Ianto’s heart.  Jack’s own brother had done this to him, and Ianto wanted nothing more than to sing the Song of Mourning for his mate.  “They…used their magic to protect me.  I know I slept…it was like it just happened yesterday.”  He pulled back, and Ianto immediately missed the closeness.  “I think it’s their power, making me like this.  I don’t know how long it’s going to last, though…I’m pretty sure it’s temporary.”

“I promise you,” Ianto said, “once this is over we’ll be taking that mating flight I was promised so long ago.  You and I…we’ll have that proper mating.”

A growl interrupted anything that Jack might have said.  Both dragons turned to look in the direction of that sound, and saw them.

Weevils.  Dozens and dozens of Weevils, almost completely surrounding the park.

“What the hell?” Jack demanded.  “Something must have driven them up from the sewers.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ianto answered, although they’d have to figure that out later.  “We need to get to the Hub and put a stop to this.”

Dragon eyes smiled at him.  “I think you and I can handle that, don’t you?”

“Agreed.”  Joy sang through him like the Song of the Earth Dragon as he prepared to fight at his mate’s side.  “You and I are going to face your brother.  Together.”

Jack nodded his agreement.  There was such sadness in his eyes, and Ianto rubbed his cheek against his mate’s one more time. 

And then, both dragons took flight together for the first time.


	15. Chapter 15

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_The Torchwood Hub, Cardiff_ **

****

Patrick didn’t know what had dragged him out of his drugged slumber, but he didn’t like it.

His chest felt flayed, and to be honest he didn’t know how he was still alive.  He’d been close enough that anyone halfway proficient with a gun should have made a kill shot, and he had no doubt that John Hart was just that good.

So, he couldn’t have meant to kill him then.

Still, it hurt like a bitch.  Patrick hated being shot, and he muzzily vowed not to let it happen again.

He tried to blink his eyes open, but they felt heavy and gummy, and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.  But something had awakened him, and he needed to know what it was before he could relax again.

This time he managed to get his eyelids to cooperate.  The light was almost too bright and he had to squint to see, but he could make out that he was in the Hub’s autopsy bay…misnamed in this case, since it was obvious he was still alive.  Probably had Owen to thank for that miracle, and he’d remember _not_ to thank the medic for it later.  Oh, he’d most likely take him out for drinks, but there was no way any sort of gratitude was going to cross his lips.  Owen’s head was far too big as it was.

A hand rested lightly over his mouth, and Patrick started in surprise, the sudden jerk making him moan in pain.  He raised a hand to try to fight, but noticed just in time that it was Deborah who was trying to keep him quiet.  He looked up into her worried pale eyes and tried to smile reassuringly, but with her hand over his mouth it was a wasted effort.

She put her mouth next to his ear.  “Gray is in the Hub,” she breathed.  “I heard a shot from upstairs.  I think…I think he got Owen.”

Patrick nodded slightly to signal his understanding.  He wasn’t sure what was going on, and just why Jack’s brother would want to shoot Owen, but he could wait to get his answers.  Right now, there was a danger in the Hub and it needed to be neutralised. 

With Deborah’s help Patrick managed to sit up, even though it made him light-headed.  He carefully removed the IV in his arm, along with the needle that was transfusing blood into his veins.  While Deborah was capable of so many things, she wasn’t that good in a fight, and every protective instinct Patrick had was rising up within him.  He had to deal with this threat; it was the least he could do for the man who’d saved his life.

“You’re too weak,” Deborah admonished quietly as she put her shoulder under his and helped him climb off the medical table. 

She wasn’t wrong.  The wound might not have been deadly, but Patrick knew he’d lost a lot of blood judging from the way he was feeling.  He refused to admit he was helpless, however. 

Deborah was touching her ear.  “Can anyone hear me?”

Someone obviously answered her comm, because he could feel the tension leaving her.  “Gray’s in the Hub, and I think he’s shot Owen.  I don’t know what’s happened to Rhys and John Hart, I can’t reach them, so it’s just me and Patrick…”  Then she sighed.  “We’ll have to hide then.  Be careful.”  She toggled off the comm.  “Toshiko is getting ready to try something at Turnmill Power Station – “

“What?” What was going on at the nuclear plant?

“It’s about to go into meltdown…long story, but it involved Hart blowing up a large chunk of the city.  Anyway, Ianto went to find Jack, because Hart and Gray buried him alive sometime in the past and Ianto thinks he can find him.”

“A lot happened while I was out.”  Patrick didn’t want to know what being buried alive would do to Jack, let alone the enraged dragon that Ianto was bound to turn into. 

“You’re not kidding.  But Hart’s on our side now, turns out he was being held hostage to some sort of explosive device grafted onto his wrist…”

“Ew.”

“Exactly.  Somehow Gray let loose a bunch of Weevils, including the ones in the cells.  Rhys and Hart went down to corral them, but I haven’t heard anything from them at all.  And I’m pretty sure Owen’s down.”

It was a very succinct report.  Ianto would have been proud of her.  He knew he was.

“So we need to get to this Gray character and stop him.”

“But how? I’m not that great with a gun and you’re barely able to stand.  Gray could come looking down here any second…”

Patrick needed to come up with a plan, but his head was still too full of drugs to come up with anything.  He was about to admit that very thing when the ground began to shake.

His legs too weak to hold him up, Patrick went down hard, slamming against the cold tiles of the autopsy bay floor, accidentally taking Deborah down with him.  Black spots began swimming in his vision, and in the part of his mind that wasn’t blanketed by pain knew he’d never be getting up again, not without help.  And he doubted Deborah would be able to do it on her own. 

There was the distinct sound of cursing coming from the main Hub.  It sounded remarkably like Owen, so thank God he was still alive.  There was another voice as well, one that Patrick didn’t recognise but who must have been Jack’s brother, Gray.  He was obviously speaking to someone, most likely Owen, and while Patrick couldn’t make out the actual words he sounded angry.

The shaking continued.  A cart of instruments rolled across the room, knocking into the wall and spilling all its contents in a loud clatter.  Patrick had been in earthquakes before, and this one was lasting far too long to be natural.

Was there some sort of explosion going on upside?   Deborah had claimed that Hart had blown up sections of the city.  Was this a part of it? 

But no, she’d also said that Hart was on their side now, and if Jack’s brother had something to do with it then certainly he’d sound happy about it? 

As the quaking continued, Deborah curled herself around him, in an attempt to keep Patrick as motionless as possible.  He wasn’t even going to pretend not to be grateful.  The movement was spreading pain through his entire body, and it was all he could do not to moan with it. 

He felt himself sliding back toward unconsciousness, and he had no choice but to follow it down into the dark.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter of this story. One more to go...

 

**_14 March 2009_ **

**_The Torchwood Hub, Cardiff_ **

****

Owen hadn’t been unconscious very long, and while he was grateful that he had a ringside seat for what happened next he would have preferred to stay out for the fireworks.

It began with the ground shaking.  That had been what had dragged him back to wakefulness, and he really wanted to tell it to stop so he could pass out again.  But it had also brought back to him just what was going on in the Hub, and there was no way he could allow himself to just lay there and do nothing.

There was a man standing at Toshiko’s workstation, holding onto one of the struts that kept the computer screens in their positions over the desk.  Owen, being the self-proclaimed prat that he was, laughed at him.

Gray – and it was Jack’s brother, Owen recognised him from the hologram that Hart had sent Jack – turned to glare at him. 

There was a sharp shift in the ground, and Owen cursed as his wound was jostled.  A gut wound…not a good thing at all.  If he didn’t bleed to death he would most likely get an infection if the bowel was perforated, and he sincerely doubted that the maniac nearby had meant that he should live through this.  He’d just gotten damned lucky that he was such a stubborn bastard that Owen flatly refused to get on with the dying thing.

The ground shaking seemed to go on forever, and while Owen was worried about just what was causing it, as long as it went on it kept Gray from doing whatever the hell he had planned next.  “What is happening?” Gray demanded, as if Owen had a clue.

Which he didn’t.  And that wasn’t quite as scary as it should have been.

It obviously wasn’t the Rift, though.  If it had been, the alarms would have been going fit to burst.  It made Owen think of the Rift storms that had destroyed Cardiff during that Year, and this wasn’t anything about those. 

Maybe the explosions that Hart had set off had done something to the bedrock under the city?  Could that actually happen?  Owen wasn’t a geologist, thank you very much.  It didn’t do any good asking him a damned thing about the earthquakes going on at the moment.

He only hoped the city would hold out.  It had already been through so much, and the idea that this would do even more damage was heart breaking.  Owen would never admit it but he loved Cardiff, and didn’t want to see it destroyed.

The quaking stopped just as quickly as it had started, and the ground settled back into silence once more.  From what Owen could tell there hadn’t been all that much damage done to the Hub, but it would take a long time to clean things up.  Dragon Boy was gonna love that, the tidy bastard.

Before Gray could even react to the lack of shaking, the cog door was opening, the blast of sound giving Owen a headache.

Relief flooded through him when he saw that it was Harkness and Jones coming to the rescue.

For a guy who’d been buried under Cardiff for centuries, Jack looked remarkably clean and fit.  He didn’t look happy, but then his brother _had_ turned into a raving homicidal maniac and that would make anyone upset.   There was some dirt on his clothes, and his hair was mussed, but otherwise Jack didn’t seem to have suffered too badly, for which Owen was grateful.  Sometimes he thought that Harkness’ life had been much too hard for even someone who’d live through anything.

How he’d come through not batshit crazy was the critical question.

Anyway, Jack and Ianto would sort it.  Owen had faith.

Besides, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it; at the moment he was trying his damnedest to keep his blood inside his body where it belonged.

Ianto noticed him lying there; his face went pale, and he took a step toward Owen but the medic shook his head.  They needed to take care of Gray first.  It wasn’t exactly smart for him to wait for medical attention, but there was no way they’d be able to get him to the hospital all that quickly anyway.  Not that the hospital could do a lot without power.

“I demand the Rite of Vengeance against you, Herbert Grayson Wells,” Ianto said softly, and not in his usual strong way.  “You have hurt my mate, my friends, and this city.  That cannot go unpunished, although I shall leave the how of it up to your brother.”

“So mote it be,” Owen found himself mouthing the familiar refrain without even thinking about it. 

Gray himself was busily freaking out.  “How are you here?” He was practically gibbering, and if Owen wasn’t seeing things there was a small line of drool on the other man’s chin.

Jack stepped toward him.  Looking his brother straight in the eye he said, “I can forgive you for what you did to me, but my team is my family, and this city is my home.  Your issue was with me; not any of the innocents who’ve lost their lives in the chaos you arranged.  It stops now.”

Gray’s gun was pointed at Jack.  “I prayed for death. Those creatures, the things they did to us! Because of _you_ , the favourite son, the one who lived, who'll always live. The only strength I have is my hatred for you!”

“Then you’re weak,” Ianto pointed out.  “Hatred is never strong enough.”

“I survived!” Gray shrieked.  “I was the only survivor!”

“I am so sorry I failed you,” Jack said.  “I would do anything to go back and change it, but that’s impossible.  I can only hope someday you’ll find it within yourself to forgive me.”

“Never!  I’ll never forgive you, Jamys.   I begrudge you everything. I want to rip it all from you, to leave _you_ screaming in the dark. I will never absolve you. All of it, it's your fault.”

There were tears on Jack’s face.  “Yes, it is.  It’s all my fault.”

Owen didn’t even think Gray was listening anymore.  His hand was trembling slightly, but it was all the rage and hatred he held for his older brother and nothing to do with nerves.  Gray was a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap, and it wasn’t long before he did just that.

The gun went off.

But it wasn’t Jack that went down.

It was Ianto.

Even though the dragon was nigh on bulletproof, the force of the impact still knocked him on his elegantly clad arse.  Owen lost his ability to breathe for just a moment, but then watched as the dragon got back on his feet, his waistcoat torn from the bullet.

That seemed to dump Gray even further over the edge.  “Not two of you!  There can’t be two of you!  Damn you, Jamys!  Not even your loved ones can die!”

Apparently, Hart hadn’t shared with Gray about Ianto being a dragon.  Well, that was one point in the arsehole’s favour.  It still wasn’t going to keep Owen from beating the shit out of him as soon as he was healed up enough to make it count.

Jack, though, hadn’t stayed put as Dragon Boy was busily getting himself shot.

The captain had darted forward, and Gray had barely time to rant before Jack slammed a needle into the raving loony’s neck. 

Whatever the hell was in that injection, it acted quickly.  Gray’s knees buckled, and Jack caught him on the way down.  Once they were on the floor, Jack just held Gray close, hugging him as he rocked back and forth.  He was whispering something that Owen couldn’t hear.

“You had to go and get yourself shot,” Ianto chided as he knelt beside the medic, looking down at the wound in his gut.

“I could say the same thing to you, Dragon Boy.”

“Our only doctor…looks like it’s the hospital for you.”

“Better get me there quick, not sure how long I can keep up the pressure on this wound.  Oh, and Patrick and Deborah are down in the medical bay.  Delaware’s gonna be fine but I’ll bet you a donut he’s gone and done something stupid.”

“And you’d be right.” 

Owen craned his head around, smiling as Deborah came up from the lower level.  She looked battering and tired, but triumphant.  “I was going to say I was glad you’re okay,” she said as she stood just behind Ianto and looking over his shoulder, “but I see that’s not the case.”

Owen let himself look over at Harkness, where he was weeping over the unconscious body of his only brother.  It was way too private a moment, and he turned away.  “What are you going to do with him?”

Ianto shrugged.  “That’s up to Jack.”

“Yeah,” the medic sighed.  After all, that had been part of the vow the dragon had sworn, and Owen knew that Ianto would abide by it.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter of this story. There are two more very short stories in Series Two, and then we'll be done. Up after that, the Dragon-Verse version of "The Stolen Earth"/"Journey's End". Thanks to everyone who read and commented and left kudos. I hope you've all enjoyed this.

 

**_15 March 2009_ **

**_The Millennium Centre, Cardiff_ **

****

They ended up freezing Gray in one of the cryo-units.

Jack wanted to hope that, someday, they’d be able to cure his brother of his insanity, but he just couldn’t do it now.  Certainly, in his own time there were various forms of therapy, but Gray had proved to be far too gone. 

He stood on the roof of the Millennium Centre, watching the sunrise over the city that had been his home for far longer than any other place in the Universe.  Gray had almost destroyed it.  It would take a long time coming back, but Torchwood would help in every way they could.

The Lord Mayor had already declared a state of emergency, claiming that terrorists had planned attacks throughout the city and that they’d been stopped by special forces and the police department.  As soon as the phones had come back up, he’d been on with Eion Gwynne, who was quickly becoming Torchwood’s liaison with the Mayor’s office. He’d explained what had happened – within reason, and leaving out Gray and John Hart’s involvement – and they’d agreed that the terrorist cover story was the best one to run with.

Jack couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty about everything that had happened.  It had all been his fault; if he hadn’t lost Gray back on Boeshane, this would never have occurred.  Of course, if he hadn’t done that, it would never have led him to the Time Agency, and then to the Doctor…and then, of course, to Torchwood and Ianto.  He wouldn’t be the man he was today if he’d kept his responsibility to his brother on that far-off world in the future. 

That knowledge didn’t make it any easier to take.

“Are you going to brood all day?” Ianto’s voice floated up from behind him, “or are you going to come down and help with handling UNIT?  Also, Her Majesty would very much like you to call her back.”

Jack couldn’t help the small smile that crept across his lips.  “Actually, I think I’d rather brood.”

“I should have guessed that.”  His mate joined him, standing next to Jack and joining him in looking out over Cardiff.  “I know you’re thinking this was all your fault…”

“Of course it is.”

Ianto looped his arm through Jack’s, and he could feel the warmth of the dragon through the shirt he wore.  His coat was down in the Hub; he hadn’t felt much like wearing it.  That greatcoat was a symbol, and Jack felt he simply didn’t deserve it in that moment.

“You were a child, Jack.  You were given a responsibility that shouldn’t have been yours.”

Jack understand what Ianto was saying.  Yes, he had been a boy, but out on the frontier he’d had to grow up fast.  His father had felt he could handle protecting Gray, and Jack had utterly failed.

“Did you mean it?” he asked, changing the subject.

“About the true mating?” Ianto enquired.

“Yes.”

“Of course I did.  As soon as we can get away, we’re going to Ddraig Llyn and I’m going to fly the mating flight with you.”

Jack could still feel the buzz of magic just under his skin, but he knew this was only temporary.  When he’d been buried so long he’d been exposed to the very Earth itself, and the Great Dragons had watched over him as he’d slept through the centuries.  He’d be forever grateful to them, because without their intervention Jack knew he’d never have made it out with his sanity intact. 

“I’ve already contacted Rhiannon,” the dragon went on, “and she’s going to arrange everything.  And, when both Patrick and Owen can travel and Kathy can get away, we’re going to do this properly.”

“I’m only going to be able to transform once more,” Jack warned, knowing instinctively.  This had been a gift, a side-effect of being exposed to all that magic, and he could only hope that it would hang around long enough for them to be truly mated.

“It only takes once, Jack.”

“Yes, it does.”

Everything was in such flux now.  Most of the city was without power; Toshiko’s trick with the reactor had worked, and it was going to be years before Turnmill would be up and running once more.  Already plans were in place for alternatives, but things were going to be rough for a while.

The downside was that the earthquakes caused by Toshiko’s magic had brought down already weakened buildings.  Luckily there hadn’t been any serious injuries, and it would take Toshiko weeks to recover from the overextension of her actions, but at least they were only dealing with a radioactive lake instead of a city bathed in fallout.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected his technician to be that powerful.  It was a humbling thought.

Then there had been the Weevils that had been driven up out of the sewers by the signal that Gray had sent out.  It had been very easy to stop, and once it had the Weevils had mostly gone back to where they belonged.  A couple had stayed on the surface, but between Torchwood and the Cardiff Police – led by the newly promoted Chief Detective Inspector Kathy Swanson and Detective Sergeant Andy Davidson – they’d managed to get them all back into the underground. 

But Cardiff’s people were a hardy lot; they’d had to have been, living on a Rift in space and time.  The casualties were high and the destruction bad, but they weren’t bowed in the slightest.

“Is Hart leaving today?” Ianto asked.

Jack clenched his jaw.  Yes, John had been a victim in all this, and he might have had second thoughts about his ex-partner in that moment before he’d been buried, but there was still no way Jack was going to let him stay in Cardiff.  Hell, the only things that had stopped him from leaving him in the cell that Gray had locked him in was the fact that the immortal knew he’d easily be able to break out of it, and that Rhys had been stuck in there with him.  Rhys had been bitching up a storm by the time Ianto had gotten down there to let them out, and Jack didn’t blame the Welshman in the least.  John could get on anyone’s last nerve without even trying.

“I want him gone,” Jack admitted.  “He can’t leave fast enough.”

“I agree.  Even though he hadn’t shot Patrick to kill, there’s still enough damage done that we’re going to be down a man for a significant length of time.  Two, counting Owen.”

“I have an idea…why don’t we go down to the Hub and kick him out?”

Ianto laughed.  “You do have the best ideas.”

“I do try.”

Keeping their arms linked, the mates headed down from the roof.  Despite all the guilt Jack felt, he was actually happy.  His team was still alive, if battered, and their city would rebuild.

It would just take some time.

 

***********

 

**_15 March 2009_ **

**_The Torchwood Hub, Cardiff_ **

****

Ianto was more than happy to see the back of John Hart.

There was still that itch under his skin of his unfulfilled vow of vengeance, but he couldn’t in good conscience go through with it.  Gray had coerced Hart into working for him, and while he’d caused a great deal of chaos and injury, in the end he’d tried to make things right.

But he really couldn’t wait for the man to leave. 

Hart obviously felt the same way.  As Jack handed him back his Vortex Manipulator, which they’d taken from Gray – who’d gotten it from Hart when he’d attacked the Hub and locked both John and Rhys into the cells – just before freezing him, Hart had looked relieved. 

The one Gray had been using was locked up safely within the Secure Archives, although there were apparently orders from Queen Elizabeth I that it be handed over to UNIT’s Black Archive.  Ianto wasn’t sure he liked that idea, to be honest, but according to Her Current Majesty there was a bit of a future issue where it would be needed.  It involved the Doctor, which didn’t surprise Ianto one little bit. The Time Lord caused enough trouble, even when he didn’t set out to.

“Are you sure you don’t need anyone else on your team?” he wheedled, even though Ianto could tell he was just going through the motions.

“Go now,” Jack ordered, “before I sic the dragon back on you, and this time I’ll let him do whatever he wants to you.  And it wouldn’t be anything fun…well, for him it might.”

The healthy members of the team – both Patrick and Owen were in hospital, where the power had been fully restored – were standing around Hart in the main area of the Hub, every one of them throwing off such unwelcoming vibes that Ianto was wondering just how the ex-Time Agent was still willing to stand there under those withering glares.

“No need to be nasty,” he sniped.  He carefully hooked the wrist strap over the bandage on his arm.  “At least I’m still welcome in the Vegas Galaxies.”

“Then you should go back there,” Rhys snarked.  He’d taken a serious dislike to Hart and wasn’t ashamed to show it.

Not that Ianto could blame him one bit.  After what Hart had done, even with the extenuating circumstances, he’d made no friends in Torchwood.

“Aw, don’t be that way,” Hart whined. “Not after everything we’ve been through together.”

“And that’s the issue, right there.”

Before Rhys and Hart could get into it, Jack intervened.  “It’s time for you to go, John.”

Anything flirtatious expression on his face fled.  “I truly am sorry for what happened.”

The thing was, Ianto as positive that he was.  Hart hadn’t set out to make a ruin of so many lives, and yet that was exactly what he’d done.  He’d started off from a good place and it had ended up turning to shit.

Still, he didn’t care if he ever saw the man again.

Deborah took the opportunity to step up to Hart.  Then entire side of her face was one massive bruise, but she didn’t have any other injuries. 

“Sure, there aren’t any hard feelings, beautiful,” he crooned, giving her a salacious look.  “I did make sure you were free after I left, after all.”

The young woman smiled sweetly.

And then kneed him in the nuts.

John dropped like a rock.

“That’s for Patrick.”  She was very pleased with herself.  She dusted her hands off and then left John to wallow in his own pain.

Ianto wanted to hug the stuffing out of her.  And so he did.

 

_fin_

 

 


End file.
